


You're Kidding, Right?

by QueenMissFit



Series: Modern Girl In... With A Stupid Name [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Canon-ish, Character Death Fix, Crack, Drunk Writing, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, GOT hotties, M/M, May be on crack, Modern!Reader - Freeform, Multi, Oblivious Reader, Party Goblin, Reader in Westeros, Yandere, fangirl!reader, i can't write for shit, started as a joke but has become my lifeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2018-11-05 14:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 57
Words: 206,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11014917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenMissFit/pseuds/QueenMissFit
Summary: When all Y/N L/N wanted was to chill at home with her laptop, anime and her bed, why has she suddenly been drop kicked into Westeros of all places? It's not even her favourite fandom.





	1. Prologue

When I got home, I arrived to an empty home. As I walked into the kitchen shouting out for my family I wandered upon a note on the table.

_Y/N,_

_We've gone on holiday. We told you this ages ago but you were probably busy with one of your Asian cartoons or ottoman games. We've left you some money and the fridge is full. Please don't spend the time we're away just sat watching TV. Go out and do stuff. Make sure you are fed. Have a nice time. Call if anything happens._

There was no love you at the end. No signing of their names. It's all the same as usual, they never have but I know they care or at least I think they do.

Typical.

I sighed in misery.

_They always do this and now they've left me on my...own._

With a sudden bout of realisation, I jump up and run to my room, quickly unclipping my bra and throwing it somewhere over my shoulder and slipping into a black t-shirt with grey sleeves and the word 'slay' across the front in a shimmering blue and black drawstring shorts. Pushing off my shoes, I hurry to get my laptop, slipping my phone in my pocket with it's portable charger so I don't need to get up to call the pizza man, and get into the lounge where I can begin to set up for the wildest beginning of a great time. My shoes are tucked under the sofa so I slip them on in case I need to get up, although I wish I don't have to. For days.

I sit on the sofa and get into position wriggling so I'm deep enough to leave a mark but am comfortable enough I can sit here comfortably.

_Now what shall I watch?_

Before I can make the decision my TV turns on without me touching anything; the Game of Thrones theme blaring in the space of the living room.

_Huh, maybe I'm sat on the remote?_

The Game of Thrones theme begins to glitch, turning into a wail before what feels like a spear of electricity stabs me in the gut and the darkness behind my eyelids swallows me whole.

  


Groaning, I sit up blinking heavily and feel as if I've fallen off of my bed and hit the floor. Rolling over I can feel the scratch of gravel on my bare legs and the heat of the sun washes over me as I push myself into a kneel, my hair heavy on my head and my lungs burning against the movement.

"Oh good, you're awake. I was beginning to wonder if the...woman that suddenly appeared in my grounds was a corpse or not."

"Who the fu- Holy shit," abruptly I push myself into a wobbly standing position and gawk at the man in front of me. With slightly long greying hair and two braids in his beard along with his fine clothes he looks like nothing I've ever seen. "Where am I?"

"Pentos, my dear lady. In Essos."

"You're kidding, right?"


	2. Where's The Wi-Fi? (Chapter 1)

"My lady, I am Illyrio Mopatis, a magister of Pentos, this great city. Now that I have introduced myself, I must ask your name."

"Y/N."

Illyrio raised a hand to stroke his streaked beard, "I have not heard that name or anything similar to it. What house do you belong to?"

"Mine."

He laughed shortly before asking, "The name of your ancestors?"

"Do you mean my last name or something?" He nodded. "L/N."

He quirked an eyebrow and began to twiddle with one of his beard braids, "You are clearly not from here."

I rolled my eyes. _Really? I wouldn't have known._

"So Y/N of L/N, where are you from?"

"Y/C. You know, that place that's obviously not here?"

He simply blinked and let go of his beard before smiling calmly and opening his arms wide, "Then for a traveller from afar I must allow you to stay in my home. In repayment, you can tell me all about how you got to be here. Now, come. I must introduce you to my other guests." With that he held out an arm and when I do not take it simply clasps his hands together and turns, two partially naked tan men in armour follow closely behind him.

_What choice do I have?_

So I follow behind him into the beautiful large house.

  


In front of me is a long, but not extravagantly, table that holds twelve places, five on each side and one on each end. At the head of the table nearest the open space leading to the outside sits a man in an olive green dress type thing with long sleeves and a high collar. Under the collar is a silver pin that looks light with a simple design that I've never seen before. I cannot see below him but above the table, I can see he is pale all over, almost white due to his marble-like complexion with slightly wavy hair that reached his chin with some of the front strands of his moonlight coloured hair pulled back and possibly tied behind his head. Currently, he is eating a small meal of meat and vegetables on fine cutlery and has not noticed us unlike the half naked serving man behind him who holds a big pouring jug.

Illyrio waddles past me to stand just in front of me with his arms outstretched before loudly greeting the man, "Ah, your grace!"

The man looks up, puts his knife and fork down and hesitates before replying, "Master Illyrio."

"I apologise for the interruption but I have someone to meet you and your sister. Where is-"

"She is preparing for her presentation today. I have already changed. I am eating so I don't lose my appetite at the sight of those filthy barbarians."

Illyrio obviously is used to this derogatory tone so he changes the subject back to his earlier point, "I have a new guest I would like you to meet," he steps out from in front of me and I get a good look at the smug prick who sits in the chair with purple eyes, "This is his grace, the true heir to the iron throne: Viserys Targaryen, the third of his name."

"Who's this then and why is she dressed so scantily? Is she a whore?"

"No, fuck off you dickhead."

Illyrio spins on his heel with wide eyes whilst Viserys abruptly stands up and marches over to me to loom over me before he snarls and spits out, "And who do you think you are to be speaking to me like that?"

Illyrio turns back to Viserys, all smiles and calm behaviour, "This is Y/N L/N. She has no house and is not a whore," at his questioning side-eyed look I frown so he reiterates his point, "Lady Y/N is not a whore."

Viserys quirks an eyebrow, "No? Then why is she dressed like that," he gestures at me with a simple flick of his wrist.

I push on his chest to get him out of my face, "Backup, I don't know you. Anyway, these are my pyjamas. I was planning to chill in them but now I'm here rather than playing online and watching Anime."

"What is...What is Anime?"

"Japanese cartoons. Sometimes has girls having sex with tentacles. Sometimes men have superpowers."

At their look of utter disgust and bewilderment, I roll my eyes. Before I can say anymore I can hear the quick footsteps down the stairs. Turning around I see a young woman stop on the second to last step in a very see-through lavender dress with longer hair the same colour of Viserys' and eyes that are slightly lighter than his. They probably are siblings but I hope to God she's nicer than he is.

At her questioning look, Illyrio walks slowly towards her and takes her hand to lead her down the rest of the steps before gesturing to me, "This is Y/N of L/N. She is to be a guest in my home just like you."

She nods and smiles gently, "Welcome, Y/N of L/N," I wince at the weird behaviour, "I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen; first of my name."

"Nice to meet ya."

She blinks owlishly, "Oh my, you speak-"

"She speaks like an idiot and dresses like a whore. Wherever did you scrape her up Illyrio?"

Illyrio simply barked out what must have been a fake laugh before he spoke with a light-hearted tone, "My garden, surprisingly. I wish to know of her story so we should all take a walk through the gardens to get a breath of fresh air. Now come, if it pleases you, your graces."

Viserys huffs and tosses his hair as he sped past to walk to the opening, waiting impatiently with a frown.

"Impatient little shit isn't he?" I mutter but I catch Daenerys's smile before she hurries over to her brother's side and they walk out into the garden.

Illyrio offers me his arm, "Shall we?"

I shrug and begin to walk before his hand on my shoulder stops me. I don't turn to face him so he whispers, "You need to try to blend in. We will follow behind them and you can tell your story. Now take my arm like a lady should and walk. I will get you clothes before the guests arrive in an hour."

I take his arm and walk with him to the opening that leads back out into the gardens.

"You there, boy!" A tan man in less clothing that the guards from before hurries over with a bent head, "From her size, you can guess her measurements, yes?"

"Yes, master."

"Good, tell her measurements to the seamstress downstairs. She'll make a dress and we'll tailor it when we get back. Now off you go."

The tan man runs off so I ask, "Why do you keep slaves?"

We walk out into the warm heat of the day and follow the siblings discussing something as Daenerys is pushed around roughly. The trees are well trimmed and gloriously green in various shades that reflect the lights like an emerald. Some small flowers line the paths of gravel

"Because I need them to care for me and my guests. Besides, if I did not have them, someone else would and would treat them worse."

"Still doesn't make it right."

We begin to close the gap behind the Targaryen siblings with enough space to give the illusion of privacy before he asks, "So, how is it you got to be here?"

"I don't know. One minute I was just chilling and the next I'm here on the ground."

He hums thoughtfully before asking, "How did you...feel when it happened?"

"Like I was being electrocuted. Like a bolt of lightning had torn through my body. It was like jealousy had personified itself like when I watched Harry Potter and realised that the sweet booty of Draco Malfoy would never be mine."

I can hear his sigh and feel his disappointment. Maybe he too knows the disappointment of not being able to get anyone as fit as Draco? "I have heard of a similar scenario mentioned in a story I heard as a child. The woman of the sky they called her. There's a song about her. They say the old gods that gave the fire to the Targaryens gave this woman the ability to travel through all of the kingdoms in order to see the true heir to the throne is put there if there is a disruption in the world. They say she is to bring balance much like the Mother, the Maiden, the Crone bring balance to the world in the way only a woman can."

"Ew. That's sexist as hell."

"What is this sexist you speak of?"

I roll my eyes, "Nevermind."

In front of us, the Targaryen siblings stop and begin speaking in harsh whispers with Viserys grabbing her chin tightly. After they finish this they turn to us with wide eyes as if shocked to see we are so close before Viserys speaks, "It is almost time, is it not? Let us head back so my sister can be better prepared."

So we head back indoors.

"This dress is so uncomfortable. It's itchy as hell, can I take it off and put my other clothes back on?"

Viserys rolls his eyes and looks as uncomfortable as I feel.

Illyrio sighs, "No you can not. Besides, I believe that this is better than you being dressed like Daenerys...it hides most of your skin and is in my house colours of red and yellow. Fitting for a guest and does not reflect badly on either of us. Also, you kept your hair the way it is rather than letting a servant style it."

I snorted, "Why the fu-"

"Language!"

"Yes dad," I replied sarcastically before continuing in a normal tone, "Besides, why would I? It's my hair, I can do what I like with it."

He simply sighs and begins to talk to Daenerys.

As he does this I pull my phone from between my breasts I hear a horse in the near distance and a breath against my neck before I hear someone ask, "What is that?"

"My phone now go away," I click the power button and it turns on with full charge. I've left the charger in my 'room' because there are no pockets in this sleek dress that begins to flare out under the hips. It's very beautiful in a light red with a pale almost canary yellow underlayer that peeks through the slit in the dress and the sleeves. Luckily, I've kept my shoes because they're not visible under the long train of the dress.

"A phone? What is that?"

I choose not to answer him and try to load up the internet to check up on my fanfiction updates to see if the new chapter for my favourite has come out. When the page fails to load I groan out loud, "Where's the Wi-Fi in this place?"

"Wi-Fi? Is that a source of magic?" he quietly asks.

"No, it's what keeps me happy. It's modern and electric. You'll understand when you're older," I turn my phone off and look at my reflection and Viserys behind me. _Great, no internet, no fanfiction, no pyjamas and no parents. What's a girl to do?_

"Are you a witch?"

I look at Viserys' wide eyes in the reflection. He looks like a child with eyes full of curiosity and I wonder how this man can be so harsh to his sister. Maybe, I can show her this side of him more often. _Perhaps that's my purpose here rather than being in somewhere like Black Butler with Sebastian Michaelis..._

The sound of multiple horses galloping forwards breaks Viserys out of his stare as he jogs back to his sister's side to stand as still as a statue. I slip my phone back into it's place, standing in the spot Illyrio put me behind a pillar so I don't attract too much attention but can still see the proceedings.

"Ah, Khal Drogo! May I present my honored guests, Viserys of House Targaryen, the third of his name, the rightful king of the Andals and the First Men. And his sister, Daenerys of House Targaryen," he begins to say something in a language I don't know so I tune out and focus on what the men look like and ignoring Viserys talking to Daenerys closely.

There's quite a few of them, all on horse back and tanned with long black hair tied in a singular braid for each man that highlights the blue of their war-paint or tattoos, which one I don't know for sure. The one nearest on a black stallion is the largest with the longest braid. He's half dressed with what looks like leather around his wrists. _Khal Drogo, Illyrio said. He looks like a dick._

Illyrio turns to Daenerys and holds out a hand towards her, "Come forward my dear."

She does so hesitantly and only stops when she is right in front of the Khal who has a lecherous grin on his face; primal and filled with greed. With a final look over he pulls on the reins of his horse and rides off, his group following closely behind.

_Well that was rather pointless..._

"Where are they going?" I hear Viserys cry out and only then do I realise how tired I've become as I fight back a yawn. _Maybe it's because I'm so bored...Goddamn I wish I was in Black Butler._

They finish speaking and so we begin to walk around the gardens which leads to a conversation between Illyrio and Viserys starting that I'm too tired to pay attention to. Daenerys is quickly involved and it's then that I yawn out loud, stretching in the dress which pops my back.

They stop in their tracks and Illyrio asks, "Tired?"

I simply nod.

He nods as well with possible understanding before turning to the Targaryens, "Apologies your graces but I must see to our other guest. Please understand."

With a scoff, Viserys flounces off and Daenerys, after a quick look of concern shot at me, runs off after him.

Illyrio watches them go before gesturing for me to turn around and walk back the way we came. As we walk he begins to speak, "I have heard this is the price you pay for your ability. An afternoon of rest and you will be back to normal. Perhaps the activities have been too strenuous for you, I understand the heat can be extremely exhausting but I will attempt to make you more comfortable."

When we reach the indoors I begin to feel faint so I mention it in a whisper.

Illyrio offers me his arm for support and calls over a guard, "Carry her to her room."

The guard obeys and swings me up and I can feel my vision begin to fade slowly as dark spots appear in my vision.

As the guard walks away I can hear Illyrio call after us, "Don't go anywhere Y/N. I wish to speak with you today...if possible."

I simply snuggle into the guard's tight and uncomfortable hold with my eyes tightly closed, feeling the pins crawling up my spine...

  


The birds are chirping above me, a sweet song. It's warm hear and not the heat of Illyrio's garden. The ground, or what I presume is the ground, underneath me is cool against my cheek and as I flutter my eyes open I see the upper legs, crotch and lower legs of two men. On their hips are a single sword in a leather sheath. They're wearing pale mint green outfits with golden roses on green vises covering their shirts and the scabbards have a gold rose on them as well.

A collection of footsteps coming closer startle me to fall flat on my face with an 'oof'.

I can hear the muffled voice of a posh English woman and then I am pulled up by my arms roughly. Disorientated I stumble on my feet before sitting down on what I now see to be a stone bench and looking at the collection of people in front of me. The men from before are stood off to the side of the bench to make room for the two women and a young man. One of the men is fairly handsome but with just under ear lobe length curly hair that's perfectly styled and a lip gloss substitute on it's obvious he's gay. The other is dressed less formally in what seems to be a uniform judging by the closely cropped hair and his bowed head. The young boy standing by the two women is in a similar position as well as has a similar look but does not have a sword. The young woman is stood next to a much older woman, both very well dressed in green with golden roses decor, and look related. The young woman has long chocolate brown hair with a slight wave to it and a gentle but fake smile on her face because her eyes don't move; they're dull and void of interest yet hold a calculating gleam. Dressed in a beautiful dress with wide hips and a long train without sleeves it's obvious she's pretty yet there's something...off about her. The old woman on the other hand has a slight smirk on her wrinkly face whilst her hair, if there is any, is hidden in a box with a golden rose at the front that has a long net at the back. Her dress does not follow her figure like the younger woman's dress does and she looks much more dignified but just as haughty as the other one, possibly less judging by her next words.  
"Ah, you're awake. I'm glad to hear that my son is not a complete lunatic."

"Where...Where am I?"

"In Westeros. In Highgarden."

I groan and lay back down.

_Not again._


	3. All-Star (Chapter 2)

"My granddaughter is not joking. This is Highgarden and you are in the gardens of the Tyrells."

I nod and stand up slowly once more, "Thanks for having me. Laters," and I move to walk off.

Before I can speed out of there like a bat out of hell, the curly haired guy grabs me and forces me to sit back down by pressing on my shoulders.

"So who are you?"

"You cannot leave until I say so. I am Lady Olenna Tyrell and this is my-"

"Oh wait, I just realised. I don't care. Bye," I try to stand up before someone pushes me back down.

"Sit. Down."

_Oh God, she's like a grandmother..._

"Now, who are you? How did you get in my garden? Also, why are you wearing Lannister colours in Tyrell territory."

"Um..."

Olenna quirks an eyebrow before beckoning over the boy with the curly hair, "This is my grandson Loras of the House Tyrell. The young lady next to me is Margaery of House Tyrell who is Loras' sister. The two men are servants of our house. Now come, let's go eat. You look famished."

"So, may we have your name now?"

I choked on the two lemon cakes I had choked in my mouth before mumbling my name through a mouthful.

Olenna winced, "Please swallow your mouthful," when I comply she sighs and then asks again.

"Y/N L/N."

She tilts her head slightly, "I have not-"

"Heard of that name? Yeah, I'm not from here. I don't have a house either before you ask."

"How can that be? You clearly are not a peasant from your clothes-"

"Got them from a guy. Called Illyrio, you know him?" when no one made an effort to reply I simply shrugged, "Yeah I just got them today in Pentos."

Margaery blinked owlishly, "In Pentos? Do you not mean from-"

"Nah, I was just there and fell asleep and suddenly I'm chilling here in your garden- Yo! Pass me those," I pointed at the and as an afterthought, I said, "Please."

"You say you fell asleep and then turned up here? Hmm, that is rather unusual. Well, I believe it would only be fair to test this. If what you are saying is true, you will disappear by morning. However, if you are lying, I will be forced to have you punished."

"K mate."

  


It had turned out I would be sharing a room with Lady Margaery because I looked 'relatively harmless', which I think means stupid, and I was checked for weapons. Luckily no one checked my front so I still have my phone. _No wi-fi though. Thank God for Wattpad or I would go insane. Maybe I am insane because I'm talking to myself._

_I'll just read about the reader in Black Butler. Why can't I be in Black Butler? My life sucks balls-_

"Y/N...Are you asleep?"

"No, I'm hunting elephants in aisle thirteen." There was silence before I sighed and stated, "Just a joke."

"Oh..." I heard shuffling and then the sound of footsteps, "Can I...Can I..."

"What? Might as well say it before I'm gone or dead."

Margaery breathes deeply before asking, "Can I join you...in your bed?"

I roll my eyes. _Great, I'm going to be dead before I can disappear. Why Lord can't I be in Black Butler and be Ciel's wife or Sebastian's? Hell, even Tokyo Ghoul would be better than this..._

Obviously, she takes my silence as the go ahead because she slips into the covers with me. I slip my phone under the pillow so she can't question me about it. She snuggles into my back, making me the little spoon so I nudge her back with my elbow gently.

She doesn't budge but asks, "You've bled, yes?"

"You mean my period?" I can feel her nod, that's how close she is, "Yeah, why?"

"So you must be married then?"

"The fuck- Why would I be married?"

She hesitates before replying, "...Why wouldn't you be?"

"Well," _how do I put this delicately?_ "Men are dickheads and I don't want to so I'm not married. Simple."

"Oh..."

"Well, goodnight," I chirp before snuggling deeper into the pillow but I don't feel tired, I just feel miserable.

"Y/N please, you're so different," _Oh God please don't let this be a love confession. I'm too annoyed with this place to care._ "I want advice from someone who will be honest with me."

"Ask your grandma or a maid. I'm just the dude who ended up in your swamp."

"The maids will not speak with me because they fear the wrath of my grandmother and my grandmother... Well, you met her today, what do you think of her?"

"She's old."

Margaery giggled at that before nudging me with what I hope is her knee, "No but be serious for a moment. My grandmother is one of the most powerful and intelligent in all of Westeros so she doesn't care much for my opinion regarding her plans. You see, she wishes to marry me off to someone. I...I don't know what to do."

"Don't marry him then, duh."

"But I must, my honour depends upon it."

"Then you've made your choice."

"But...You come from a different world or so you say, it's different for you."

"Yeah I know but-"

She interrupts me with a quiet whisper, "I'm scared."

Pity pulls at my heart strings so I reply, "Don't be."

"How can I not be?"

"Because you are a strong independent woman who don't need no man. Relax, how long you got until marriage?"

"I do not know."

I shuffle to face her and in the dim light of the candles strewn about the room I was thrust into, I focus on the shadows cast over her pale face and frightened features before I state, "Well there's no need to worry now then."

"Why shouldn't I? You're not married. You don't know unless you have a story-"

"Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me."

"Roll you? Does that mean to deceive you."

I nod and continue calmly, "I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed. She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb. In the shape of an "L" on her forehead."

"Was the woman the one who told you? Also, why would she have her thumb and finger on her forehead? That's improper unless she was fixing her hair."

I take a deep breath to stop myself from laughing and ignore her questions, "Well, the years start coming and they don't stop coming. Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running. Didn't make sense not to live for fun. Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb."

I can see her nodding so I turn back over to stop the laughter burning it's way up my throat and feel her clutch onto the back of the nightgown tightly, "So much to do, so much to see. So what's wrong with taking the back streets? You'll never know if you don't go, you'll never shine if you don't glow."

"Thank you Lady Y/N for your counsel, you are very wise."

"You...You found that helpful?"

"Yes, very much thank you. My, you must have led an interesting life to know that life is not worth living unless you are living for your own benefit. Hence why you do not follow social etiquette."

_No. Way._

"May I stay here?"

I nod because I don't trust my voice in that moment, suddenly feeling the tiredness wash over me in waves. My eyes begin to flutter closed so I focus on her breathing getting deeper, sliding the phone from under the pillow and back in between my breasts and the flickering shadows on the wall.

  


"GET UP GIRL!"

"Nooooo! Five more minutes!" I roll over and tuck my head deeper under my shoulder.

"YOU ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COURT! STAND AND ADDRESS YOUR KING!"

"Noooo... Wait, you're not my mum!" I roll onto my back and scoot away from the voice before pushing up so I'm propped on my elbows...facing a really fat old guy in a shitty chair. God it looks so dumb but so cool.

"Clearly not you daft bitch, I am King Robert Baratheon of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. Rise, girl!"

"Dude, I got a name. I'm Y/N L/N. No I don't have a house and I ain't from here."

He chuckles heartily for a long time which causes the rest of the crowd behind me to laugh along with him. The seat next to the 'throne' made of hundreds of silver swords is a stool in comparison, although it literally is, and is empty.

After he stops laughing, as do the rest of the people, he wipes his eyes and shouts, "More wine!" As a young man with a blonde bob runs up to him and fills his cup he points to me, "You amuse me, girl. I think I'll keep you as entertainment. Also, you're going to need to change out of that."

Nobody moves.

He growls in annoyance and sloshes his wine, "Well? SOMEBODY GET HER SOME NEW CLOTHES AND GET HER A ROOM!"

A young woman hurries out of the crowd and pulls me up quickly and pushes me out of the room. Behind us I can hear the clunking of metal so I guess a guard is following.

Before I am moved too far I call out to the king, "Can I sit on the throne?"

A gasp tears through the crowd and the maid pushes me quicker, the king's chuckle echoing in the void created by tension.

_Can this dumbass dream be over with? When am I going to have some fun?_

  


"This is more like it!"

_Sure, I'm in a dress but who cares? I'm eating and drinking with a king!_

We've been sat in a small room he called the 'small council' chamber. Dumb name but I'm being fed so I don't care. It's good food too. Chicken, roast potatoes, pie and cake. The wine's as good as it's going to get so I drink enough to wash the weird tasting stuff down before I avoid it.

The king smiles and wipes his mouth, "A woman with an appetite! Rare to find here in King's Landing, so what brings you here Lady Y/N of L/N."

"Dude, just call me Y/N. Don't bother with formalities, you've just seen me eat my weight in food twice over."

He chortles and picks up a chicken wing before using it to gesture at me, "I like you girl, you're a real person. Are you sure we've never met?"

"Nah, I'm sure. Not from this world. You know, this is the third place I've been and I haven't enjoyed anywhere as much as this."

He swallows his mouthful of chicken and drops the bone noisily onto his plate, "Not from this world, eh? Are you a wildling then?"

"The hell is that? No, I'm just Y/N."

"So how are you enjoying the dress?"

"It's good thanks."

Before he can say anything more the door opens and the guards standing there move aside to let in a woman with golden blonde hair in a half up half down hairstyle and a dress similar to mine. Where her dress is plain but accessorised with jewels, mine has golden flowers everywhere but the long sleeves that I've rolled back to my upper arm so they don't get in the way of my eating. It's a burgundy red and matches the wine in the glasses.

She hurries over to the king's side and takes a seat, taking a glass of wine that had been left at the side because he didn't like the taste at the time.

"Cersei, how come we are graced with your presence?"

"I just wanted to tell you we are to be ready for the caravan to the North in ten minutes," she took a deep sip of her wine and looked away from him, her eyes falling on me which caused her to splutter and choke.

I raise my arm and wave slightly, "Hi, Y/N here."

Robert laughs at the woman's choking before introducing her, "This is my wife Cersei. She used to be of House Lannister before she married me. Tell me, what do you think of her?"

I shrug, "She's very beautiful."

"Well there you have it! Cersei, what do you think of Y/N?"

She wipes her lips with a handkerchief and appraisingly gazes at me, before conceding, "She looks harmless."

"I get that a lot."

"Anyway...Y/N how would you like to join us to the North?"

"Sure but just to warn you I'll disappear when I fall asleep."

They blink owlishly before Robert bursts into a loud chuckle, throwing his head back which causes his neck to jiggle like a chicken's throat. Cersei simply looks confused.

"Then it's settled. Come, meet the rest of my family."

  


_Holy shit, they're all blonde._

The two older men are handsome although their height makes them differ. One of them is tall whilst the other is a dwarf. The taller one has longer blonde hair and looks like Prince Charming from Shrek 2. The smaller one is holding a golden goblet.

"These are my brothers; Ser Jaime and Tyrion."

"Nice to meet ya- What are you doing?"

The taller one had knelt down onto one knee and had taken my hand in his to lay a kiss upon the back of it before standing back up. His brother did the same.

I wipe the hand on my skirt and can feel my face scrunch up. Tyrion, presumably because he's not in armour and isn't eye-fucking his sister, looks disheartened and looks away.

"Sorry, I'm...I'm not used to that where I'm from," I mutter in embarrassment.

"It is alright, now my darling children," Cersei takes my arm by the elbow in a pinching grip and leads me forcefully to a group of tiny Aryan children that would have made Hitler cream his jeans. With a final look back at the now whispering siblings, I sigh and focus on the children.

There's three children and now that I'm looking there's a male standing with them. The children are all similar looking, their mother's colouring showing prominently in them. The youngest is a boy who looks quite cute with a small fluffy beige kitten in his arms that mews as he shifts it in his arms; his focus entirely on the kitten. The girl beside him, who is very beautiful with big blue eyes and long blonde hair styled like her mother, is leaning over her brother's shoulder to look at the kitten with great interest. The older boy is... weird as hell.

"These are my children."

Yeah, I got that. Thanks.

"Tommen, my youngest," she gestures to the boy with the kitten before gesturing to the young girl, "My only daughter, Myrcella."

Upon hearing her name the young girl breaks from her trance with the kitten and looks at me before dropping into a curtsy. I nod my head quickly, feeling Cersei's eyes burn into my scalp. She quickly returns to looking at the kitten which brings a fond smile to her face.

"This is Joffrey, my eldest and the heir to the throne."

Joffrey licks his lips lecherously before swaggering the few steps to stand in front of us, his cerulean gaze with a wicked fire in them that is far too evil to be born from anything but sin. With tousled blonde hair and a wicked grin, he looks like the villain of some story.

"Children, this is Y/N L/N. She is to be traveling with us because your father," Father sounded incredibly strained, "Has decided it. Be...kind to her," with that she flounced off to pout alongside her emo siblings.

He flashed a dangerous smile; white teeth with a threat behind it like a wolf in sheep's clothing. He knelt like his uncles had and kissed my hand. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from retching or vomiting onto his smug little head.

After what seemed like an eternity of him licking the back of my hand and knuckles whilst I looked at the floor beside him he stood up and smiled again, "A pleasure, Lady Y/N. I can tell we will become very close."

_I think the fuck not._

Before I can voice my opinion on the matter or slap him so hard he turns a different shade of blonde, his father appears in the courtyard which signals everyone to get into position.

Stupidly I just stand there bewildered until the man from before, Tyrion, offers me his hand. Remembering what Illyrio had said I took his hand and followed him to the carriage a few feet behind the main carriage where Cersei was currently getting in, the children in a carriage behind her.

  


"I'm sorry about earlier."

Tyrion looks up from the book he's reading and sighs before returning to it, "I don't care."

I scoff, "Yeah right."

He puts his book down and stares at me with a steely gaze, "Pardon?"

"You looked like someone had pissed in your cornflakes. I didn't mean it because of you. I just...Where I'm from-"

"You said that earlier. I don't know what that means in this context."

"I'm not from this world."

He quirks an eyebrow, "What proof do you have?"

I pull my phone from between my breasts and pass it over to him. He cautiously takes it before tapping it against his other hand.

"It's not a weapon!"

"What is it then?"

"A phone."

"A...phone?"

"Yeah, look press the button on the side."

When he does so the light turns on showing my embarrassing screen saver of my favourite anime characters. Startled he drops it into his lap and glares at me, "How did you get this?"

"I bought it," I reply simply.

"How?"

"With money."

Exasperated he pinches the bridge of his nose before releasing and glaring at me, "What manner of sorcery or science created this?"

"Electricity science. I dunno dude I didn't pay that much attention in school."

"School?"

"Yeah, it's this building you go to from like age seven to sit in a room of kids from your area that are your age to learn stuff you'll never use but determines your future more or less."

"Education? So you are extremely high born?"

"Nah, everyone gets an education. It's a human right."

Tyrion looks at the phone like it's the most amazing thing he's ever seen, "That's...That's awe inspiring. Your world sounds fascinating. Please tell me more about it."

I yawn, "Yeah, yeah but in return you gotta forgive me for earlier. Where I'm from everyone is equal or at least we try to get everyone to think that."

"Of course. Anything for this sort of knowledge."

I yawn again and lean over and snatch the phone from him before he can figure out the password for it. Slipping it back into place I lay down on the seat, curling up on the lush carpeting, "Anyway, fair warning, I may disappear when I fall asleep. No biggie."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah," another yawn erupts from me, "It's how I'm here and not back in the world I'm from."

His next words are not in my comprehension because I begin to see less of him and more of sweet booty and abs behind my eyes.

  


_God it's hot. Am I in Hell?_

"Welcome back to Pentos Y/N."

_Never mind, I'm still in this hellish world._


	4. Sexy Slice (Chapter 3)

"So it's true."

"What's true?"

"You truly do disappear."

"Well yeah, dude I have been everywhere. Why?"

Illyrio offered me a hand to help me up. Once stood he put my left hand in the crook of his arm and began to walk me back to the house. Only when we reached the back of the house did I realise we had taken the longest route.

Before I could ask, Illyrio had let go and turned to me, "Y/N promise me you will avoid wearing house colours when you can. Those are Lannister colours and if the Targaryens saw them there could be conflict. They may think you to be a spy. Please, aim to be careful. Now, I believe we should get your true measurements."

"What for?"

"Your dress for Daenerys' wedding. Come."

  


_Holy shit if this woman does not stop stabbing me I'm gonna pop a cap- Wait, I don't have a gun and I'm not a thug. I don't have anything. I just want my goddamn Wi-Fi, not changing temperature. This is actually bullshit._

Daenerys' gasp cut me out of my thoughts and I realise I must have said that last sentence out loud. Whoops.

The seamstress, another slave, released her hold on my waist and pulled out all of her pins. As she did this she said, "Right, that's it for you both. I must go now to measure Viserys. Good day." Hurriedly, she left the room then leaving me in the nude in front of a mirror.

In the mirror, I could see the room and its contents. Including Daenerys' watchful gaze.

"Look I know I have a sweet ass but please stop. There will be no swiggity swooty for this booty today."

Daenerys blinked owlishly before flushing a deep crimson and turning away. I jump down from the stool I was stood on for the measurements and pick up my phone, trainers and clothes from before to quickly dress. Once done I walk over to Daenerys where she is sat on the window seat and plop myself down next to her.

Slowly she averts her eyes away from the beautiful view outside.

"You could just leave, you know."

"Excuse me?"

"You're not happy with your brother."

She stuttered out a reply, "It-It's not tha-that I-I'm not h-happy but-"

"Your brother is selling you out so you're either happy or you're not. Simple as that."

"You're very straightforward, Lady Y/N."

"Best way to be. Also, I'm not a lady. Just Y/N."

Daenerys nods thoughtfully before swinging her legs under her so she is sat in a kneeling position before asking, "Y/N, may I ask something of you?"

"You just did but sure."

She hesitated before stating, "I heard you earlier with Illyrio. You're a traveller from a world far away. Some sort of sorcery."

 _Quick Y/N. Conceal, don't feel don't let her know,_ "Pfft, what? 'Course I am from here..." _Nailed it._

She quirked an eyebrow, "Then why do you not dress like anyone. Why do you have that thing? Why do you have a thin dead snake in your room?"

"Um-"

"It's not from Essos or Westeros so don't lie to me. Please just be honest with me."

I sigh which causes her to grin widely and grasp my hands in hers.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

"This is fantastic! You can help me then-"

"Nope," I reply, popping the 'p' and watch the disappointment fill her eyes.

"Oh," her shoulders slump and her hold loosens on my hands but still holds them.

"I can help in other ways though."

"How?"

"Um..." _Quick, think of something clever_ , "I can give you advice, I guess."

"Really? Good, then advise me on my upcoming marriage. How do you...How do you make love?"

I baulk at that, "Why do you think I know?"

"Do you not?"

"Don't you people have sex ed?" When she tilts her head I mutter, "'Course you don't."

"So can you help?"

"Sure," I concede, feeling my stomach twist, "What do you want to know?"

"What do we do?"

"He takes his dick and shoves it up your ying-yang. He pulls out then puts it back in repeatedly before jizzing. The end."

Before she can ask anything more a knock on the door alerts us to look away and stop talking. The door slowly opened to reveal Illyrio.

"Yeah, what?"

"Y/N!" Daenerys hisses aghast and appalled.

Illyrio just ignore us and asks, "Y/N can you come with me please?"

"I can but I won't."

"Please."

"Ugh, fine," I detach myself from Daenerys and walk to the other side of the room.

Before I leave completely Daenerys shouts out, "Wait!" I don't turn so she waits a few seconds before continuing, "Thank you for being honest with me. I think we can be friends in time."

I let the door swing closed and hurry after Illyrio's retreating form, not wanting to think about the fact that I could be in my world any day now, leaving her with only her brother.

  


"I think the fuck not."

"Please, he has requested for you to speak with him."

"No. One does not simply talk to a whiny bitch that is not as fabulous as Malfoy."

"...I do not know what a Malfoy is so off you go."

Before I can react, he has opened the door and shoved me inside. As I lay sprawled on the floor I hear something whack against the outside.

Jumping up I bang on the door, attempting to break free. Unfortunately, this does nothing and now I feel sweaty from the exertion and the heat.

_Could this get worse?_

"Hello Lady L/N, thank you for coming quickly although you could have been quicker."

_Oh no, I forgot about him._

"Please, join me for some lunch. You must be famished."

I stubbornly stay propped against the door, praying to any God available that I'm back on my sofa with my pizza ready to arrive...Wait...

"MY PIZZA!"

"I beg your pardon?"

I spin around to face him and tug at my hair forcefully, "MY PIZZA! IF I STAY HERE I'LL NEVER GET MY SEXY SLICE OF ITALIAN GOODNESS! I JUST WANT MY PIZZA BUT THERE'S NO ITALY HERE OR GREECE OR WHATEVER SO PIZZA IS NOT AVAILABLE!" I fall to my knees and then drop to face plant the floor, my shrieks of agony mumbled by the plush carpeting.

I can hear him sigh before a chair scrapes against stone and footsteps begin to get closer to me. When the footsteps stop, a foot nudges me in the side so I roll over.

"Are you alright?"

"End my suffering," I reply deadpan.

"That was not my intended purpose for this visit now get up please."

"No. My life is over."

He sighs once more and nudges me with his foot again.

"Fine, I give. Help me up," I hold up an arm and when he takes it I lean all my weight on him which causes him to stagger.

Glaring at me once we're both steadily stood up he flounces back to the table on the balcony and sits back down, pouring himself a glass of wine as I make my way over.

Once sat I hesitate to help myself to the food. There's something predatory in his violet eyes that makes me wonder if he's poisoned the food; the first time I have distrusted anything in this world.

Fed up with my staring he swallows his mouthful and states, "I haven't tampered with the food or the wine. Take some so we can begin."

"Begin what?"

"Eat. Something."

Hurriedly I pick up a small chicken-like thing and bite into it.

"Now onto business...Who are you and what do you want?"

I choke on my non-chicken, spitting it out on the plate before answering in spite of his disgusted yet pointed look, "Y/N L/N. I'm from my world and I want to leave. Is that all? Okay, bye."

"Stay seated, please. Obviously, you are Y/N of L/N but there is no house that the name belongs to so you are not from Westeros. Besides, you are far too clean to be a peasant. So where do you come from?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because I am the dragon. I am a Targaryen, the Dragon is resting within me and-"

"You're a Shimada? That's so cool!"

He squints, "No. I am a Targaryen. Now where do you come from?"

"I'm out of your league and your world."

"...I believe you, funnily enough."

"Huh?"

"Well allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Viserys Targaryen, third of his name, the true king of Westeros."

I simply pick up the wine glass and begin drinking it, feeling myself grow drowsy. When the liquid begins to spill he pulls it from my grip and places it out of my reach.

"That's not fair!"

"Life is not fair."

The dark spots begin to pierce my vision and Viserys asks quickly, "Is it true that you disappear when you sleep?"

I nod whilst a yawn rips its way out of my mouth.

"I wish...Sometimes I wish I could disappear from my responsibilities."

_What?_

"I have to care for Dany and for my family's honour...Why am I telling you this? You're probably too stupid to comprehend such-"

"Shut up, you git. You know, you're not as bad as I thought. Just remember to take care of your sister. Treat her well and she'll do right by you," with that I lay my head on the table, my hands at my side and feel the heat of midday lull me into dullness.

  


When I wake up I can feel the soft ground biting at my face and arms, the softness replaced quickly by a numb sensation under and in my skin so sharp it is as if I'm being poked by thousands of needles. A bitter chill rolls over me as the wind grazes my skin. It's a stark contrast to the warm seducing atmosphere of Pentos. The wind howls and snarls like a rabid dog...

_Wait, that is a dog..._

"GREY WIND, WHAT YOU GOT THERE BOY?"

The dog barks repeatedly and I can faintly hear the shuffling of snow as if a heavy object is trundling through the snow. It's hard to tell if this is an illusion because I'm losing feeling in my body.

A whinny of a horse is above me but I don't move and it's then I realise that my shirt is wet and I'm laying on my front. A large spray of something showers over me before I am lifted up bridal style shivering in the arms of a stranger. When I open my eyes I see the guy moving his mouth but I can't hear anything. Before I can pass out the man has wrapped me in his cloak and slung me over a horse, jumping on behind me and clutching me like a child to his warm chest.

As he rides I observe him from below. He's very handsome with a chiselled jaw, medium length curly dark brown locks and a hard gaze with robin egg blue eyes. His pale skin matches the snow hailing down and lashing everything it touches.

His mouth moves constantly but I can only hear the pounding of my heart as if it's been pulled out of my chest and put to my each like a sea shell. I can't hear the dog barking anymore. Just the blood pumping vigorously as if I've run for miles. His jaw tenses every so often when he looks down with a concerned look in his eyes that looks so foreign to the joy and confusion people have looked at me with for the past few days. Perhaps this is what death os like, the confusion and numbness I feel is unlike anything I've ever felt before.

Somewhere between being pulled onto the horse and watching the man I'm being pulled down into the arms of someone else. The world around me is blurring but I feel more awake than ever, not alert but just that there is no way I could sleep.

I'm losing the feeling of the clothes around me and my skin is beginning to be ripped apart by the freezing temperature. The weight of my phone is lifted from my chest and then-

**SPLASH**

"HOLY SHIT THAT'S HOT!"

  


After the scalding hot bath I had been scrubbed, stripped of my belongings and forced to stand butt naked in front of a seamstress to adjust a dress someone noble had grown out of.

"Stay still!"

"No, ow! Stop!"

"I would not need to spend this much time if you were a real lady."

_I hate this world so much-_

"Hello, is the girl awake- Oh, seven forgive me."

A man stands at the door. Thick dark black curls like ink has been thoughtfully drawn in beautiful spirals explode around his head like a lion's mane. The contrast to his snow white skin is beautiful but it's the blush that rapidly creeps it's way up his neck to his face that shocks me enough to not cover myself. His dark brown eyes quickly avert to the floor and he begins to mumble.

The seamstress, a middle-aged woman with a messy bun the colour of straw on her head shakes her head before addressing him, "I'm just finished Jon. Please wait outside so she can dress and then take her to your father."

Jon nods and races out of the room, almost knocking himself out on the door frame in his haste to get out.

The seamstress tuts, "Men. No patience at all."

I nod, "I hear ya. Thanks for this by the way. Hey, do you know where my stuff is?"

"I do not I'm afraid. Perhaps the Lord Stark knows."

"Who the hell is that?"

Shocked she hesitates to reply before scolding me, "You should not use such language and the Lord Stark is the Lord of Winterfell. He most likely has your items."

"Cheers. Wait... Do I have to go with the guy who just looked at my sweet poontang?"

She fixes me with an exasperated look before putting her face in one of her hands and pointing to the door wordlessly.

I shrug and walk to the door before I feel the breeze hit my still very naked body and look back at her, "Hey, got any clothes for me or a towel or something? As nice as my ass is I doubt I want to be walking butt naked in this temperature."

"...You're very strange."

I just grin at her and watch as she shuffles around before presenting me with a bundle of clothes, "Get changed quickly. Young Jon Snow is still waiting for you miss..."

"Y/N L/N, nice to meet ya," my voice is muffled by the woolen dress that I'm hurriedly shoving on over my head.

A faint sigh penetrates my ears as I squirm to find the neck hole before cold hands reach around me to pull the dress into the right position. When my head emerges I smile at her, less wild than I had been. I put on the gloves, thankful the cold isn't eating away at them. and turn to leave.

A hand on my shoulder stills me before the seamstress mutters, "You'll need shoes. Here," a pair of light brown boots are dangled over my shoulder before being dropped and her warmth retreats. I plop myself down on the stone ground and shove the boots on before jumping up.

"Thank you for this," I call over my shoulder as I slip out of the room by opening the door a crack.

Outside Jon is waiting with his back to the wall and a thick warm-looking fur coat on. At the sight of me he blushes but retains eye contact, "Are you ready to go milady?"

I snort when he offers him arm out but take it anyway, his bewildered look making me almost laugh. As we walk down the hallway I see that he has a slight shadow on his face.

"So...You're Jon Snow?"

He nods but doesn't talk more about it. His jaw tenses as if he's biting his tongue to not say anything more.

"Okay dude sorry if I offended you-"

"You didn't offend me milady, it is just," he sighs and doesn't speak anymore but picks up the pace through the corridors.

"Just what?"

"You truly don't know?"

"Wouldn't of asked, would I?"

"You are-

"Weird? I know. Anyway, who's this Lord Stark? Is he Iron Man?"

"...Who is Iron Man?"

"Nevermind. So who is he?"

"The Lord of Winterfell and my father," he sounds extremely miserable and his shoulders drop. His arm tenses and the muscles underneath flex enough for me to feel under all his layers.

"Your dad? So why aren't you-"

"A Stark? My mother is not the Lady Catelyn so I am a bastard."

"I'm a bitch, so what?"

He paused in his steps in front of a large well-kept door and turned me by the shoulder to face him, "You might want to try and be more respectful. My father is a patient man but his wife is not. I am less than a Stark because my father forsake his vows for my mother. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be off milady." He then bowed low before standing back up, sorting his coat and walking off.

Before he disappeared around the corner I shouted, "You're worth something, Jon Snow. You just don't know it yet."

Jon just kept walking.

_Now, do I knock or..._

My decision is made for me when the door opens and reveals a kindly old man who gestures for me to go in.


	5. Netflix Wasn't Involved (Chapter 4)

"May I introduce the Lord and Lady Stark?"

In the chairs on the opposite side of the small table were a middle-aged couple. The man was not that handsome but was interesting to look at with stone grey eyes and dark hair many shades lighter than Jon's. His jaw is scattered with stubble on the verge of becoming a beard. His wrinkles are not heavy except around his mouth and eyes as if laughter is the only strain upon him. His wife, on the other hand, had a fire behind her robin-blue eyes that reflected in her long tresses the colour of spilt blood. Her skin was pale but held a pink tint to her lips. Dressed in a blue a shade darker than her eyes I can truly see how light she is compared to her husband's dark features and cloak.

Lord Stark smiled slightly, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance Lady..."

"Y/N L/N. I have no house. I'm too clean to be a peasant. I'm not of this world."

"Have you lost your mind, young lady?"

"I believe, my lady, that she is telling the truth. I have heard many things and learnt of many people with gifts. Miss L/N may be among these people; blessed by the Seven to serve a divine purpose. As a Maester I believe it in our interest to guide the chosen to reap the true benefits of whatever the Seven may be testing."

"Which of the Seven would choose...well, her," Lady Stark pointed at me as she said this, standing up to do so.

"I believe-"

"Back up, why the fuck are you this pissy? If you don't want me here, I'll go back and lay in the snow until I freeze or fall asleep."

Aghast, the Lady opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. Helplessly she looked to her husband who shook his head so she sat down in silence.

"Continue, Maester Luwin. Please," Lord Stark bid.

The Maester sighed, rattling his chains, before continuing, "It could be any of them. The Father could of sent her to give divine justice but I believe she is not a warrior. The Mother, due to her gender, to show the strength of women but that is unlikely. The Mother's chosen most likely has children of a sort. The Crone could have chosen her to show others the truth but there seems to be no gift of wisdom in her-"

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"-Thus it's unlikely. The Smith and the Warrior are extremely unlikely because her...gift has left her vulnerable in the snow. Most likely it is the Maiden or..." Maester Luwin trailed off and looked into the depths of the now dying fire.

Lord Stark jaw set before muttering almost silently if not for the lack of roaring flames, "The Stranger."

A deathly silence fell over the room and despite the warmth of the fire and clothes I could feel a chill crawl up my spine and drill deep into my bones. For the first time in this world I feel fearful.

"Who is the Stranger?"

"The Stranger represents death. The unknown as well, like you," Catelyn spoke softly as if speaking any louder would break the warmth in the room and snatch it away. "Never mind, this is not the talk for a lady. Y/N please come with me, we should leave the men to their idle gossip. I believe I should introduce you to the rest of my family."

"But-"

Quick as a flash she was up and yanking on my ear to drag me out of the room, the two men beginning to talk as our footsteps were further away.

"Can you at least let go?"

  


A line up of seven people, organised by age based on looks from left to right, awaited me in the courtyard. As I rubbed my ear which feels like it's been pulled off, I observed them all in turn.

"I remember you," walking straight up to the boy with brown, almost auburn, hair.

He laughed before bowing. As he stood up he introduced himself, "I am Robb Stark; eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn. I helped you earlier to Winterfell because we found you frozen in the Godswood. I hope that-"

"Where's your dog?"

His eyes widened comically before he fell into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"Begging your pardon, milady but the Stark children have no dogs. They have direwolves," The man who said this had dark bark brown hair and a mischievous grin.

Finally, Robb managed to calm himself and stand up, "You saw Grey Wind and thought he was a dog?"

I shrugged but the action clearly annoyed someone because I was pushed by the shoulder to move backwards and out of Robb's face.

"Robb is my eldest," informed Lady Catelyn, "And this is Theon Greyjoy."

The two bowed but Theon seemed almost hesitant to do so as if the name shocked him.

"It's good to see that someone so beautiful did not freeze in the snow, my lady," Robb bent the knee and took my hand to place a kiss on it.

I can feel my face scrunching in disgust at the feeling, remembering the way Joffrey slobbered, but I don't wipe it on the dress when he stands up, falling back into line. Looking to the next man after the first two I smile at the sight of Jon.

"This is-"

"Hey Jon! How you doing? Dude, this place is mental-"

Catelyn interrupts me with a cough before quickly introducing him, "This is Jon Snow." Hurriedly she moved to stand in front of the next person.

I lean in close to whisper, "Nice to see you. Dude, we should meet up later, k?" Before he can answer I skip off to stand next to Catelyn.

The red-headed girl looks like a younger version of her mother in a beautiful dainty turquoise gown with a small fur cloak on that barely hides the flower embroidery upon the neckline and skirt. She curtseyed at the sight of me standing there.

Catelyn is obviously proud of her daughter's manners because her smile grows, becoming warmer, "This is Sansa. My eldest daughter. She is especially gifted at embroidery, like needlepoint, and knows much about poetry, flower arrangements and many more lady-like subjects."

I can hardly control my eyes rolling back in my head from boredom but dumbly I comment, "You seem to be very good at it. I like your...flowers."

Her grin is blinding and she flushes almost as red as her hair from the compliment.

"And next is my second eldest daughter; Arya."

This girl is more like me; fidgeting in her gown of pure cerulean blue, like her sister's eyes, with wild hair that seems untameable even in a simple braid. With eyes like her father, a cold steel, she is an impressive sight, possibly intimidating...if she wasn't so short.

"I hope one day she can be as proper as her sister."

Arya frowns at that and I can relate to her feeling like a disappointment.

"And finally, my two youngest; Brandon and Rickon."

The two young boys are as different as night and day; one has dark brown straight hair and looks similar to Arya whilst the other looks similar to Robb with dirty blonde curls.

They smile at me nervously and I should do something but instead I yawn loudly, alerting Catelyn to my condition. But before she can say anything, Robb has stepped up to my side.

Slipping his cloak onto my shoulders he turns to speak with Lady Stark, "Mother, I'll show her to a room. Our guest is tired. She can be shown around later, after all it is not like she is going to leave any time soon."

At Catelyn's strained look I just conceded, "Sure whatever but you're the eldest, you probably have shit to do. Jon can show me."

The entire group looks incredulously at me as I walk over to Jon's side, take his arm and begin to walk the opposite way we came to the courtyard.

Once out of earshot he leans down and whispers, "You do know we're going the wrong way, right?"

I just keep walking.

  


"Do you, Y/N L/N take this man to be your lawful wedded husband? To have and to hold until death do you part?"

"Y/N, that's a bed."

"I never want to leave it," I reply indignantly whilst wrapped up in the furs on the bed, like a cuddly burrito.

"And you believe marriage with odd words is the best way to do it?" Jon's voice is soft as he lays back on the bed, after my begging him to do so because he looked really uncomfortable.

"Odd words? Those are the legal words."

"Marriage is not a legal procedure, it is religious and performed for all the Gods."

"What about if I'm agnostic?"

"Agnostic?"

I sighed, "I forget you people are weird. It means you don't believe in God."

He quirked an eyebrow, "I am weird? You claim you disappear when you sleep! And to not believe in the Gods...it's unbelievable."

"Look dude I never said I don't believe in God or whatever, I just don't need to tell people about it and I don't believe in this Seven either."

"The Seven are the Gods of my ancestors. They have protected the North for thousands of years. Whether you believe in them or not, maybe they're the reason you're in my life... I mean my family's lives."

I peer over him to see he's blushing as red as a tomato and I can barely stop myself falling off the bed from keeling over in laughter.

"W-What's so funny?"

Panting I slowly regain composure and reply, "You."

"W-Whatever. Anyway, what's your world like then? Is it like the North?"

"Not really. We have electricity and things. More importantly, we have memes."

"What is a mem?"

"A meme. It's a picture with funny words on it. Or just a picture. Or a vine...It's just loads of stuff that's funny. Like a catchphrase."

"What is a catchphrase?"

I sigh, "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

"I know some stuff."

 _Really?_ "K mate."

"I do!" He sits up to face me.

"Like what?"

"Like...How to ride a horse and how to sword fight, fire an arrow from a bow and hunt."

I shrug, "Meh. Still no nothing."

"I know other stuff."

"Sure you do~"

"I know...Stuff. Like I know how to tie knots and fish and...kiss a girl," his voice drops to a whisper and his blush returns even darker and more prominent.

"Have you ever even kissed a girl?" His blush darkening further answers it for me so I decide to take it further, "Do you want to?"

He doesn't answer and I can feel his gaze shift to my lips before he averts his eyes to the fireplace in my room.

The following silence is agony so I decide it's easier to just change the subject, "So how does marriage work here? If I'm here for the foreseeable future I might as well know in case I happen to wake up during one."

He hesitates before answering, "The Faith of the Seven has large wedding ceremonies. Up here in the North we use the Godswood. It's officiated by a septon, a priest of the Faith, which makes it legally binding and binding in the eyes of the Seven. The main ceremony is the big event but there are others like the wedding breakfast. The men and the women separate and present gifts to the bride or groom as they break their fast. Do you have anything like that?"

"We have bachelor parties and bachelorettes."

"What are they?" his attention and his eyes remove themselves from the fire to return to my face.

"Massive parties where each gender, like your dumbass breakfast, goes out for the evening, possibly the night before the wedding and get roaring drunk, possibly go to a strip club and make stupid decisions that will either make them fond with memory or miserable."

He smiles gently, "Sounds like fun. Did you do that for your wedding?"

"Pfft-" I can barely contain the laughter shaking my body, "No. I'm not married."

"But you are so beautiful..." his voice trails off again as the blush returns full force.

"Never mind. So continue."

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves he does, "It's a long ceremony filled with many prayers and vows. The main events are that the father of the bride takes her to the Godswood or wherever they're getting married and presents her to be given. The man places his cloak around the woman to pledge protection. They say their vows then kiss. Then there's the wedding feast and the bedding ceremony if they choose."

"What's the bedding ceremony?"

"The men of the wedding... carry the bride to her bed and strip her."

"Ew! That's nasty!"

"What happens in your weddings?"

"Vows, kiss, food, cake and then everyone gets pissed. Simple and fun but it depends on the couple. Like where I'm from, two men or two women can get married in a lot of places."

His eyes widen comically, "But that's blasphemy."

I shrug and then realise I don't understand what he said so I ask, "Can you show me?"

"Show you what?"

"A wedding. I don't get it. Run me through it."

He stutters but nothing comes out other than 'um'.

I roll my eyes, "Just run me through the steps. It's not binding because there's no sept-thing, right?"

He nods before agreeing, "There's no septon so I suppose..."

"Great! Go through the vows. It'll be good practise if you marry one day."

"...I'm not going to marry."

"Why not?"

"I'm going to join the Night's Watch. I'm a bastard and it'll give me meaning."

"So...It's military, right?" He nods, "Then let's pretend. It'll be the wedding you'll never get and you'll have a fun memory of me for the time between visits."

"Visits? You can't visit."

I roll my eyes, "Can't control where I wake up. I could wake up in your bed~"

Before he can say anything there's a knock at the door. Wide-eyed Jon runs to pick up his cloak and get to the chair by the door.

When the door opens it reveals Robb with a small package in his arms. He steps into the room and when his eyes land on Jon, Jon hurries to leave without saying goodbye.

As the door swings shut, Robb walks over to the bed and sits down gingerly, placing the package next to him. He looks at the end of the bed where his cloak is.

"You can have it back. I don't need it, I'm good but thanks," I yawn and then continue, "You can take the dress as well if you want."

"Pardon?"

I point with my foot to the end of the bed where on the floor the dress is.

He looks at me, really looks at me and realises I am naked under the furs besides my undies. _'Cause I'm not completely weird._

Robb begins to have a rosy blush spread across his face so he simply thrusts the small package at me.

"What is this?" He doesn't answer so I open it and empty it onto the bed.

The packaging was a simple piece of black fabric, tied with a ribbon with a few holes in it. The package contained a handkerchief, a small bag with something inside it and my phone.

"Oh baby, never mind marrying the bed, you're all I need!" I kiss the back of the phone quickly and hug it to my chest before slipping it into the side of my underwear so I have it later.

The bag was a small grey drawstring pouch which, when emptied, had about twenty silver coins. Nice, I can use this for stuff later. I put the coins back into the pouch along with the handkerchief, pull it shut and tie it to my panties which I realise is beginning to pull them down.

When I look back up at Robb his eyes are looking at my chest. I look down and realise the blankets have fallen down to expose most of my naked body.

"PERV!"

He just throws his head back and laughs.

I rearrange the blankets so I'm laying down in a cocoon. He flops down beside me, his warmth seeping in despite the blankets.

"Robb," I ask but am cut off a yawn that pops my jaw.

"Yes, Lady Y/N?"

"First of all, I'm not a lady and second of all, what are the vows for a wedding here? I'm just curious because Jon was going to tell me but you scared him off."

He props himself on one elbow with his fist on his cheek; a lazy grin spread across his cheeks as he playfully asks, "I scared him off?"

"Yeah. We were just chilling but Netflix wasn't involved. So, either tell me or I will..." _What can I actually do? The dude has a sword!_

"I will tell you if you wish, my lady. The vows are scared between man and wife so don't tell anyone you were taught by a Lord. It can cause a scandal," he coughs before resuming, "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger... I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days. However, you would say the same first part followed by 'I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days."

I mouth the words and he smiles gently.

"Do you want to practise? It may help if you are here for a long time, a good looking girl like you could be snatched up by a wildling."

Ignoring his first question I ask, "Do the wildlings marry like you lot?"

He snorts before his voice becomes a low whisper, "They steal their brides."

"Well that's shit."

"Exactly, they do it to prove they can provide for them and are strong enough to challenge them. It's how my great-great-grandmother married my great-great-grandfather."

"He stole her?"

"She stole him. Now, you were yawning earlier, shall I leave you to disappear?"

I shake my head, "Nah, you can stay. Just until I fall asleep."

With a sigh he sits up, pulls off his shirt and then unlaces his boots before shimmying out of his trousers.

"Want some covers?"

He lays back down and asks, "Are you okay with that?"

I shrug and pull the covers high enough for him to slip in. When he's still I move to be comfortable and close my eyes, feeling the long day take it's toll.

As I begin to pass out, I thank him for the cloak and feel him shift closer to me in return wordlessly. I feel a gentle tug at my navel and the world around me seems to fade away.

  


Horses wake me up. The sound of their neighing, the clip-clop of their hooves and the fact that the soft pillows, blanket and the ground below me is rocking.

"Lady Y/N, I believe it to be in your best interest to put some clothes on."

I jerk up and gaze at the sight of Tyrion looking at the wall behind me, keeping his eyes away from my still naked form.

Quickly I untie the pouch from my underwear and slip my phone under the pillow I was resting my head on before asking, "Do you have any-"

"The king decided to have some clothes made for you because my sister was unhappy with you wearing Lannister colours although you did look quite fetching in them. So under your seat there is a compartment for small things. If they are not to your liking...well, complain to the king."

"Thank you Tyrion," I bend over to root through what seems like a small chest.

"You remembered."

"Of course, you're the smartest person I know here."

The horses begin to slow so hurriedly I pull out a silky fabric in a marigold yellow. The sleeves seem to be tight that cover some of the hand and the shoulders have spare long silky material on each shoulder that has a marigold yellow gradient that bleeds into black halfway away from the shoulders. Under it is a corset in a cream colour.

I place the corset onto my body and fumble with the back.

After many moments of watching me struggle, Tyrion slips off his seat and moves behind me before asking, "May I?" I nod so he laces the corset quickly with the skill of someone who knows what they're doing.

He's so close that his warm breath lingers on the bare skin above the corset back, even when he returns to his seat to pour himself another glass of wine as the carriage stops.

Hastily I pull on the dress and slip on a pair of shoes that were under the fabric.

_What do I do about my stuff?_

As if he can read my thoughts, Tyrion swallows his sip of wine before throwing a small leather thing at me.

Once it lands in my lap I dangle it between my fingers and look at it skeptically before asking, "The hell am I meant to do with this? Gag someone?"

He scoffs before answering, "It's a holster for your...phone. Did I say that correctly?" At my nod he continues, "You slip your leg into the large hole," I obey his command and do so, ready to follow the rest of his instructions and as he says them I complete the action, "Pull it tight enough so it won't slip...Yes, good. Then slip your phone into the side compartment. You can attach small bags and pouches to it as well but nothing heavy like a weapon. It would fall down or break. Traditionally, holsters like this are used for knives but I thought you may need this in order to travel successfully."

A knock at the carriage door interrupts him.

"Quick," he hisses, "Pull your skirt down to cover it. If anyone sees it other than those who know of you, you could be put on trial as a witch or worse."

The door opens as I brush down my skirt so it sits comfortably. Outside, the ground is covered in a thick layer of grass that spreads as far as the eye can see. The man outside the door is Tyrion's brother, Jaime, waiting patiently.

"My lady, may I escort you and my brother to the table?"

"Table? Out in the middle of no where?"

Tyrion scoffs, "No. They set up a tent so that we can eat together, regardless of weather. I do need a break from the sheer silence."

Jaime holds out his hand in offering, "Now, shall we go, my lady?"


	6. Mean Girls and Honour (Chapter 5)

The walk to the table is agonisingly painful. My arm is in Jaime's and Tyrion flanks us at the left as we weave past the horses being lead off of the road and the servants carrying various containers and plates. It's late evening so the sun is just dying, casting an ethereal crimson streak across the sky.

"How far until Winterfell, brother?"

"A day at most. More if the king doesn't stop at every tavern along the way for a bit of fun."

"What's Winterfell?"

Jaime stops, causing me to jolt in place beside him before, without turning, he quietly asks, "Where did you say you were from?"

I shrug and slip my arm out of his to move closer to Tyrion, "I didn't."

Hurriedly, Tyrion begins to weave around the servants whilst I follow closely behind, Jaime's armour clanking behind us. The smell of smoke and wine is pungent and heady as if it's somehow going to stain my soul.

Finally, as my legs begin to burn from walking on uneven grassy land, we reach an enormous box-like tent in a Lannister red, the colour of a drying wine stain. The flaps at the front have been partially bent back and pinned so people can pass through.

Following Tyrion into the tent, I am surprised at how extravagant it is to be set up in what seems like only a small amount of time. With two separate tables of a deep mahogany, the rich magenta walls are even more vibrant to look at. The scent of multiple types of meat and fish fills the tent with an easy air about it.

_But where the fuck do I sit?_

On the left, King Robert and the Lannisters have sat, drinking a load of wine and spilling it on the carpet beneath their feet. On the right are the children, like a shit wedding that wants the kids to get along.

There's no sign that I have a place to sit.

"Y/N!"

_Thank fuck for Robert._

Hastily I waddle over to him to await his words. I could just sit down but I am not sitting near that weirdo Joffrey by choice.

"Y/N, good to see you! How have you enjoyed the company?," before I can answer he continues, "Anyway, I hope you enjoy the food because-"

"She can not sit with us."

Robert turns to his wife and picks up his goblet, the wine sloshing as he points at her, "I am the king, you can't tell me-"

"It's not appropriate. Besides, I don't think that my father would be so supportive of your lack of grace. Perhaps sit her with the children, your son seems to be quite taken with her," she wipes her mouth and smirks before addressing me, "I believe you'll find the company...more suitable."

_Bitch._

Rolling my eyes, I spin on my heel and walk over to the kiddie table which has a chair empty next to the Devil; Joffrey. He looks up at me with a lewd smirk and I feel my stomach roll.

"Lady Y/N, a pleasure to see you again. Would you please join us?" he asks, leaning back in his chair I can feel eyes on me so with a sigh I flop into the seat next to him.

_This is going to be a long evening._

  


_I am actually going to pass out..._

"...And I have a crossbow!"

"Crossbow? The fuck? Update to a gun."

"What is a gun?"

_Oh no... This boy is a school shooter..._

A loud yawn cuts me off from answering and soon after a series of footsteps approaches me.

"Nephew I think-"

"TYRION GET YOUR ARSE BACK OVER HERE! THEY'RE BRINGING OUT DORNISH WINE!"

Tyrion turned to face the king, "But your highness, your guest is tired and I think it would be best to show her-"

"NONSENSE! LET THE HOUND SHOW HER!"

Tyrion's sigh was answer enough and with a regretful look, he walked back to the head table.

Joffrey scowled before pointing to the mouth of the tent, "He should be there. Until we meet again my lady." He then snatched up my hand and landed a quick kiss on it before I ripped myself out of his grip and hurtle outside.

A man stands outside the tent in black armour with long shaggy hair that I can't tell is blond or brown. Yet there is no dog.

"Hey, sir? Do you know where the dog is?"

He turns slightly and his face is scarred on one side heavily. I don't gasp but don't avert my eyes.

Instead, I ask again, "Do you know where the dog is?"

"What dog?"

 _Maybe this is just a prank._ "The King said there was a hound to lead me to the carriage 'cause I am tired. I hope it's a cute dog or like a seeing-eye puppy that's trained like a monkey butler."

He barks out a laugh and picks up the bottle of wine next to him, pulling the cork out with his teeth and spitting it on the ground before stating, "You have a weird way with words, girl."

"K...But have you seen the puppy or dog or whatever?"

He snorted before saying, "I am the Hound."

_The fuck?_

"That's rude, why the fuck do you put up with it?"

He shrugs and takes a long sip of wine. Once done, he shrugs again.

 _Men, how typical..._ A yawn cuts off my thoughts and the Hound sighs heavily. He begins to walk off at a quick pace so I hurry after him, stumbling on the uneven ground in ridiculous shoes.

  


"You don't have to go."

He coughs and spits out the wine onto the marshy ground he was in the process of drinking. When he recovers he sits bolt upright and turns to me with an incredulous look before proceeding to ask, "The fuck are you talking about?"

I shrug, "Jeez, don't get your panties in a wad, just chill," a yawn interrupts me, "Just stay with me until I fall asleep, okay?" I begin to lay down without waiting for an answer, knowing I'll be asleep soon anyway.

_Travelling through sleep is really exhausting..._

He rolls his eyes as I settle my head on the grass. The scent of spearmint drifts with the wind through the dewy grass of evening and floats over my head like the clouds above. A familiar heady scent, probably of wine, begins to lull me into a deep sleep yet I keep my eyes slightly open to watch the man, whose name I don't know, close his eyes and relax.

"Hey, dude, I forgot to ask but what's your name, your real name?"

His eyelids don't move yet he whispers, "Sandor Clegane."

Yawning slightly I reply, "Nice to meet you, Sandor, I'm Y/N L/N."

And I am asleep once more.

  


Giggling, harsh whispers and soft strokes on my hair and face rouse me from my slumber. The air is heavy with spices and a slight heat, unlike Essos but warm enough that my clothes feel uncomfortable. Comfortable body heat surrounds me and it's then I realise I am not alone.

Jerkily I sit up and smack into...a naked boob.

A round of laughter alerts me to the fact I have reeled back and fallen on my arse off of a bench of some sort.

"Aw, bless."

"She's like a frightened little lamb."

"The Lord will like her."

"She's not going to work like us though is she?"

_Please, not a strip club. Please, not a strip club. I do not want nipple tales. Lord just let me return back to the Plastic Lannisters and it's a Wednesday._

"Girls~" a male voice practically purrs, "As much fun as it is to watch our guest flail and become disorientated, perhaps it is better to get her into something more...our style."

_I am not getting my tits out._

As I open my mouth to say something, I am yanked up by my arms and dragged hurriedly to another room before being dumped into a freezing bucket of water.

"AH!"

More giggles and the shock of the water has my teeth chattering so I look at them. There are three girls, scantily clad. The first is presumably the one I face planted in the chest because she only has a silk-like skirt in an Emerald shade wrapping around her hips to tie at one side, leaving a slit to reveal a leg with a long anklet wrapped from the knee downwards in a long, decadent silver spiral. With the shortest hair out of the group, a slick inky black mop rests against her mocha skin. The second girl is wearing a slightly more modest version of the girl I probably hit in the boob with my face whose name I really have to know, wearing a blue top to match that ties at her neck and contrasts her dyed red hair in various shades of liquid fire. The third girl... is actually naked. Like completely in the nude. With caramel skin and amber eyes, her lack of all body hair is mad up by the sharp angles of her face.

"You need some clothes," I spit out with chattering teeth as my sodden dress is pulled off of me.

The naked girl rolls her eyes and walks out of the room with the dress in her hands.

"This is what you give me to work with," the woman in blue says as she pulls a large bunch of my hair over to her to look at, dragging me along with her rough grip.

"Well honey, I've seen worse," crows a woman walking past with a large jug.

"We're going to have to turn this mess into a work of art up to Lord Baelish's standards," says the other one as she walks behind me, the sound of her feet slapping against the wet floor.

"We'll have you washed and dried," my hair is let go and the other girl returns with a small box of wood in a deep golden colour. "Primped and polished till you glow with pride."

The box is opened and the contents dropped unceremoniously on the floor to reveal a comb, a small drawstring pitch black bag and a bar of soap. The bar of soap is thrown at me and suddenly I'm submerged in the freezing depths of the small wooden tub; my head under as my feet dangle usually over the side for purchase.

"Wait and see, when we're through, boys will gladly go to war for you."

The girl in blue behind me pulls me up by my shoulders, settling me against the back of the tub before she begins to comb my hair, "What does she want with boys and war? No lass, you need a man and money. Get you a man who would start a war to get you back who has enough money to buy his way into the Seven's favours. Then you'll be happy."

"With great fortune-" I'm yanked forwards so the mostly naked girl has a grip on my feet, pulling a small bottle from the bag and a tiny brush as she does so.

"-and a great hairdo," another woman comes into the room carrying a few small pots brushes.

"Who the fuck are you?" I ask.

No one answers except for the woman whose boob I hit with my face sat in front of me, "Jorlyn."

_Finally I have a name._

"You'll bring lots of business and money to us all," the girl behind me leered as she yanked a tangle out of my hair.

Biting my lip, I listen as Jorlyn hums whilst uncaaping the pot, dipping the brush into the liquid and beginning to drag it on my dry right foot.

"A girl can bring her family, great honor in one way-"

"Is Disney not gonna copyright this?" I mutter as I continue to watch the swirling patterns on my leg climbing up as she continues.

The girl behind me stops combing before continuing slowly before continuing, "-By striking a good match. This could be your day, perhaps Lord Baelish finally wants a bride."

"Why the fuck would he want her?" asked the girl arranging the pots on the floor next to me, the girl who had left the room with my dress.

Jorlyn rolls her eyes as I frown.

_Like I wanna marry some weird dude anyway. That accent was kinda hot though but still weird..._

"Men want girls with good taste. Calm, obedient, who work on them fast paced," with a lewd grin the girl next to pulled me out of the water to lay in a heap on the floor before dragging me to a standing position.

Once standing I'm wrapped in a towel before being rubbed down quickly and left to stand nude in front of an open window.

"With good breeding," Jorlyn says as she stands up and arranges a corset around my body before tying it at the back and yank it closed, "And a tiny waist." She puts her hands to my breasts and squeezes; retreating before I can hit her away with my flailing arms.

"You'll bring a lot of cock to us all," calls out a woman walking past with an old man behind her, following her nude body and dead to the world outside her curves.

_How many hoes does this guy have?_

"We all must serve our Lord who guards us from the full extent of the horrors the world has to offer. A man can serve just like a woman, if that is what Lord Baelish wishes."

"When we're through, you can't fail

"Like a flower; soft and poised," my back is hit and I jolt into a straighter standing position.

"How could any man say 'no sale'," says another as she begins to apply a paint to my lips in a garish red.

"'CAUSE HE HAS EYES!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Jorlyn shouts out the window to the people standing below.

"You'll bring money to us all," states the woman before me, blowing on my lips slightly before smiling and walking away.

"You've said tha-" I'm cut off by a finger to my now dry lips. A squirt of some sweet smelling liquid hits me in the face, causing me to cough.

"There, you're ready," another girl states as she bends down and slips my now dried feet, the henna having ages to dry, and slips my feet into small lavender shoes that match the silk dress slipped over my head at the same time, joined at the neck by a silver loop.

"Not yet," quickly Jorlyn fiddles with my hair and I can feel the weight of it on the top of my head as if a braid has begun to circle my head, "A hair style to show a higher status," she moves in front of me after clasping a necklace "A pendant for balance, silver to enhance you beauty. Now add a book of the Seven, just for luck and even you can't blow it." A small book is pressed into my hand and she smiles before gesturing for me to walk out of the door.

_Lord help me not fuck up completely._

And I am shoved into a room, the door slamming shut behind me.


	7. Words Have Power (Chapter 6)

"Please take a seat," the man behind the desk presumably Lord Baelish, said without looking up at me from his desk where he was sat writing something. "I won't be long."

_This motherfucker. I'll show him...but my legs hurt._

Once I'm sat down I lean back in my chair and roll my shoulders back into the wood before slumping, finally feeling how tired I am. Being cleaned and shit is tiring. After a while, I begin to look around the room.

With a few heavily magenta curtained windows on the right side of the room, it seems even more cramped than it should be. With a large step up where the table is, it shows the room has more space but the darkness, even in the middle of the day, makes the figure of the small older guy more intimidating from the candlelight surrounding him from a candle on the wall and the golden candlesticks on his desk. Dressed in a black shirt or gown or whatever with a silver bird pin closing the fabric together, he reflects the light like the stripes of grey in his elegantly styled hair.

When he looked up finally he blinked quickly before sliding the papers and quill to one side before moving the now corked ink well into a drawer on the right side of his desk. With a bang, it snapped shut and he released the drawer with a reluctant hiss of air between his teeth that was too violent to be a sigh before leaning forward intently, elbows on the table and linked hands under his chin.

Popping my jaw causes him to quirk an eyebrow and ask, "So what is it that made you come here?" His accent is a mix between Bane, Irish and British so I don't know what this world's geography is.

I shrug. _If I have to explain this shit to more people I am going to be so fucking done with this shit._

"You aren't going to comply?"

Instead of answering I yawn and put my elbow on the arm of the chair and begin to lean on it heavily.

"When someone appears in my establishment I do try to figure out why they are here but in any case, you shall work for me now. Someone with foreign looks and... a foreign way of speech will capture a lot of interest but I will not make you a whore-"

"Yeah, try and I will cut your dick off," I close my eyes and snuggle into the chair and wait for him to say something.

He must say something but I can't hear it over the roar in my ears like a heavy current and suddenly I am being ripped away and floating like the smallest lifeboat in the largest storm; sloshing about and the world around me is unstable like my body which feels like it's being hacked away at, piece by piece until there is nothing except the sound of my blood rolling in my veins.

  


A heavy wind pushed my skin harshly as the soft covers beneath me shifted with my movements as I struggled to sit up. Blinking, I realise why I'm struggling so much.

The covers have twisted around me like shackles.

Although not forceful they do require a bit more wriggling before I manage to tumble onto the wooden floor that is so not forgiving when I smack against it in a dress that feels like liquid rather than the solid feather-light material it really is.

With my head pounding and the floor being a fuck, I wonder what could be worse than this.

**BANG**

"Y/N!"

_Nevermind._

  


It had been Daenerys who had found me, squealing in child-like glee and ever since I had been by her side. She's a good person out of her brother's control, like a dog; loyal, kind, compassionate and loving. But every dog can bite or claw their master if treated awfully for too long.

Right now, we were heading to the bathroom for some reason. Although I had told her that if she needed a shit I didn't want to see, she simply laughed nervously and continued dragging me whilst half babbling at me and half asking questions she didn't give me time to answer.

"...Oh, I wish you could stay here forever. It is nice to have another woman with me and I believe we are friends now, are we not? Anyway, you will the love the view of Illyrio's grounds from the balcony." Hurriedly she yanks on my arm and we run around a corner into a room with a middle age jacuzzi pool and a large opening with a balcony. She almost trips in her haste, so I grab her to steady her.

Finally, when at the window does she stop, releasing my hand from hers and rests her forearms on the thick top of the balcony. Eerie silence stems between us and I'm left to watch her staring out into the distance with a forlorn look on her face.

"Are...Are you okay?"

"No," she answers simply, "I don't think I am."

"Is it because of your brother or the dude you have to marry?" Her silence tells me nothing. It could be one or the other or even both, so I ask, "Well what do you want for a wedding present?"

Daenerys turns to me then, her hair fluttering in the wind, "What?"

"Most people get stuff for weddings. I don't have anything to give you so ask me for something, except my virginity because my ass is good but not that good, and I will try my best to give it to you."

"Anything?" her voice is deathly quiet, just above a whisper and it's freaking me out.

"Yeah, anything."

_Was this a bad idea? No... She needs someone that doesn't want to control her. She'll need all the help she can get._

"Then I ask but one thing. Y/N, please stay by my side, when you are near."

I simply nod as footsteps echo in the room and she turns away to look at the sunset, allowing me to wait for someone to enter.

"Daenerys!" Viserys calls as he walks in, "There's our bride to be! Oh and she's with you. How _nice_ to see you Y/N~" Viserys practically purrs my name and it freaks me out. He's cute but a psycho so none of that fanfiction bullshit where my knees tremble from anything but fear.

Daenerys turns slowly and walks up to meet him past the bath that a dark-skinned servant girl dressed in amber and brown is beginning to fill up with hot water. Hot enough that steam is rising from it at a steady rate.

"Look, a gift from Illyrio!" Daenerys pauses in front of him so slowly I edge towards them, quick enough to intervene if he tries anything, "Touch it! Go on, feel the fabric!" The overly satisfied grin spreads as his tone gets smoother and he hums, "Mmm."

_The fuck?_

"Isn't he a gracious host?" The rhetorical question causes Daenerys to look up and meet her brother's gaze.

"We've been his guests for a year and he's never asked us for anything," the question of why is obvious in her tone.

Viserys answers, "Illyrio is no fool. He knows I won't forget my friends when I come into my throne."

I can hardly contain the fit of laughter at his words. _He has fewer friends in this world than I do. Illyrio probably is just glad to see the back of him. Speaking of which I should see him before I disappear because I have a feeling Daenery's wish will make it impossible for me not to appear near her._

Before I can slip out of the room quickly, Viserys swipes away the delicate fabric and flings it behind him to a servant before fixing his sister with a steely gaze and asking seriously, "You still slouch?"

I freeze in place and watch as Daenerys stills, her back unwilling to straighten.

Reaching behind her neck I can only watch in horror as Viserys begins to slip her gown from her body. As he says, "You have a woman's body now," her boobs are almost revealed and I have had enough.

"OI!" I shout, swiping up a nearby bar of soap and hit him on the side of the face, allowing Daenerys to step back and replace her dress whilst Viserys swoops down on me with a snarl.

"Do you want to wake the dragon?"

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, YOU FREAK!"

Viserys stills and backs away before I can land a swift quick to his crotch and leaves the room hurriedly.

The fear for Daenerys slowly disappears as the sound of Viserys' footsteps disappear the further away he gets.

"Y/N!" Daenerys runs up to me, clutching me into a tight hug. "Thank you," she mutters into my shoulder and I can feel the hitch in her breath so I brush my hand over her hair to calm her down. Slowly she relaxes in my arms and melts against me silently before muttering, "I need to bathe... for my wedding," and she slips out of my arms and walks deathly silent to the bath, stripping herself before walking into the steaming depths of the water.

"My lady, it is too hot!"

"Fire does not burn a dragon," she replies and sits in the boiling hot water.

With a sigh I walk out of the room, leaving her to dwell in whatever she's stuck in so I can find Illyrio.

  


_I still haven't found Illyrio after what feels like forever and there's no one around to ask so-_

A hand claps onto my mouth and drags me backwards, a door slamming in front of my eyes.

I'm released as the person behind me states, "Scream or run and I will slit your throat."

_Viserys you sly fucker-_

I spin around to face him and take in what he's wearing. Dressed in a long black tunic with a red colour, he looks more ethereal than ever with the contrast as if he's a creature of hell. Dragon scale detail decorate the leather and on his left under his shoulder is a dragon pin which Daenerys wore days ago to show their house as if their hair isn't identification enough.

"Your dress has been made," he pointed to the bed where a silky bundle of fabric in a deep magenta bleeds into an inky black, the fabric thinner than the fabric I'm wearing now.

On shaky legs, the fear of the lunatic behind me, I walk over to the bed to pick up the dress and hold it out in front of me. It has a dark gem between the breasts that causes the chest to be more emphasised, even with the low cut.

"The fuck is this for?"

He scoffs before answering, suddenly appearing to the side of me leaning against a post of his bed, "My sister's wedding."

"K, but why the fuck is it in your room?"

He moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist to settle on my hips before whispering into my ear, "You are to be my date."

_Fucking what now?"_

With a gentle push, Viserys pushes me away from the bed and walks over to the bed to sit down. When I don't move he quirks an eyebrow and orders, "Well? What are you waiting for? Get changed."

"NO!"

He rolls his eyes and asks, "Why not?"

"BECAUSE I AM NOT CHANGING IN FRONT OF YOU! YOU ARE THE WEIRDEST PERSON IN THIS WORLD!"

Viserys throws back his head and laughs heavily so I take the distraction to drop my dress and slip into the other one. When he finally sits up his eyes narrow at the change, also the dress I have thrown into a corner, and simply runs a hand through his now tousled hair whilst sighing.

"Well, I'm changed now, thanks for the dress, bye!"

"Wait," the fact that he's quiet and gentle is the only thing that stops me from bolting. "I have something for you." Slowly he stands up and walks over to a small table with a silver box on it and strolls towards me before stopping with the box outstretched in offering. I take it from his hands and observe the small smile rise and fall from his face as quickly as a breath before he states, "As my...guest, you will need something to show it otherwise the savages will maul you like the dogs they are."

"Maul me, why the hell would they do that?"

"The Dothraki are a band of killers who live and die for the right to live as they please. Women are lesser beings; they are objects."

"So why marry your sister off to them?"

I still haven't opened the box so he takes it from my hands, pressing a catch at the front to open the lid. Inside on plush fabric lie two silver Targaryen pins. He picks them up wordlessly in one hand, putting the box back on the table and attaches each to a strap on my dress at the point where my dress meets the front. They are extremely light and reflect the light to shine on Viserys' face and highlight the small smile he has as he... stares at my rack.

**SMACK**

"DO YOU WANT TO WAKE THE DRAGON?"

_Welp, I'm out._

  


After being chased, tackled by Viserys in front of an ashamed Illyrio, having the dye scrubbed off of my legs (to my horror because I kicked Viserys in the face when he reached up my dress) and settled onto a horse sideways in front of Viserys to travel to the wedding, we had arrived at the wedding.

We have been here for hours. I want to sleep so badly but every time I begin to droop, Viserys, the trash king himself, hits me in the side or pulls on my hair like a child and I manage to wake up enough to watch the multiple rapes, deaths and overall madness that horrifies Viserys, amuses Illyrio and makes me prefer Viserys over Illyrio for once. Daenerys looks beautiful but deadpan and scared. As she should be because the dude next to her, the Khal Drogo, is a hard dude. Like really hard. Kind of good looking but the guy-liner and genuine snarl makes my legs just snap closed.

Viserys looks at Drogo past my head and then turns to ask Illyrio, "When do I meet with the Khal? I need to begin planning the invasion."

_Not this shit again. This bitch is gonna get himself killed._

Rolling my eyes I nudge Viserys away from me to stand up and walk over to Daenerys, plopping myself on the dirty ground next to her and away from the Khal.

"Y/N, how are you?" she whispers to me. I shrug in return so she asks, "Why are you over here?"

"Your brother is being a dick," I reply whilst pointing briefly at him and almost fall over at the sound of the Khal's barking laugh.

_For a dude who can't speak much English he sure gets insults. He's like budget Drax, if Drax wasn't as clueless and spoke a horse language. Does this guy know BoJack-_

Presents and people come and go, another person dies and I almost head back to sit with Viserys when the Khal growls out something about 'Jorah' and 'andal'.

A scruffy middle aged blond man presents himself before the Khal and bows, his hands filled with books that I can't read the titles of from hear but can't be bothered to ask as he soon comes forwards and gives the books to Daenerys as a gift with some words I don't listen to because I'm too busy watching the fond and kind of sad smile that comes across his face as he speaks to her.

After that I get up, walk back over to Viserys and plop myself down, wriggling my head into his shoulder without a word and begin to drift off.

Just as the darkness begins to swarm me, my ear is pinched and I am pulled up to face an angry Viserys. It's then I realise that the Khal and Daenerys have gone.

"Where is-"

"They have gone," he hurriedly answers, "For their wedding night."

_Wedding night? But it's-_

The sky is a lilac that stretches into a calm marigold, showing the setting sun that burns it's way slowly down like the flame on a candle. It's become cooler and I can feel the goosebumps erupting in my skin.

Viserys wraps an arm around my shoulders and leads me back to a horse to, as he informs me, pack our things.

  


"I'm sorry... for earlier," Viserys says as he brushes my hair like I'm a child but he's been kind to me for a while and also because he threatened to burn me alive but he also lost his sister today so I figure I can indulge him before go to sleep. "I just can't risk it."

I lock eyes with him in the mirror, "What can't you risk?"

"Your secret being found. You have become... something of worth to me and I want to protect you. It's why I insisted you were my guest, not Illyrio's, to protect you further. If they had thought you had no man... they would have taken you like those savage women today. Do you want that?"

He yanks on my hair causing me to pull away from him.

With a sigh he puts the brush down delicately and moves away to allow me to move away from him. I rush over to the bed and get under the covers, hoping to God that I disappear from his reach.

Viserys sits on the edge of the bed and asks, "Would you like to hear a story?"

"Not real-"

"Good. I shall tell you one of my ancestors."

_Oh for fuck's sake why can't he be anyone but him or Joffrey or Cersei or... Never mind. At least it's just a story._

"Dragons have always been selfish creatures. They covet treasures of all kinds. Gold, women, children or whatever, they choose to steal them and hide them away. For the dragons that my ancestors rode, they coveted gold and other jewels and treasures. The moon like sheen of Targaryen hair attracted them because they looked like pearls and time spent with the dragons meant the humans took on their traits."

_Daenerys' words... Fire cannot burn a dragon._

He turns to me and puts a hand to my cheek to clutch my face, staring deep into my eyes, "One of these traits was to be obsessive to the point of madness; love or otherwise. I truly believed it was my crown, my birthright, my legacy that was my treasure but now I know the truth. My treasure... is you."


	8. Nope. Nope. Nope. (Chapter 7)

_Nope. Nope. Nope. This guy is loco._

"You are not of Targaryen blood and whilst you vex me, you stoke a fire within me that has never burned before. A fire this vibrant will spread if unattended. Say you will be mine and stay here."

I can hardly breathe so I close my eyes to block out the image of the man above me as if he is a nightmare that disappears when I close my eyes. His breath feels like fire as it hits my skin and I know his eyes have that manic gleam to him. This is all wrong. All so wrong and yet I know it's for the best. His focus on me may help me make him into a better person and then I can go home. Maybe I am to guide him to this so-called throne he talks about constantly.

"SAY IT!"

_How can I say anything to him except I want him to get the fuck out? I just want him to leave so I can sleep and disappear. Perhaps I will awaken somewhere like with Daenerys and Viserys will remain here. Perhaps I will become truly free once and for all because-_

"Daenerys swore me to her side," I state and slowly open my eyes at the sharp intake of breath I hear and the heat retracts from near me. "So even if I wanted to, I can't."

Viserys flings himself up, kicking the nearest piece of furniture, the chair from the dressing table, which launches it to land in the roaring fireplace. It ignites in seconds and is gone. No ashes are visible and it appears none have been left behind.

I hope it's not a symbol of my hopes to get home. That would be really shit. Actually, really shit is an understatement at this point.

A quiet chuckle begins to draw my attention and I realise Viserys is bent over, not facing me and slowly he is getting louder until his laugh turns into a mad cackle and he throws his head back before snapping his neck towards me. Vibrant violet eyes sear into my soul and I feel my skin crawl.

He can be kind, that I know. It sounds fucking ridiculous but he can be as nice as he can be cruel. He's a person; everyone can be monstrous but that is what makes us human.

His manic laugh cuts off and he stalks over to me and sits down as if he hadn't just pitched the biggest bitch fit in the land. With a gentle trembling hand, he reaches out and strokes my hair without words.

I'm so exhausted from the day and the fear of him that as I begin to feel my eyelids grow heavy, I barely register my own voice saying, "Besides, you're not the dragon. You say you are but if you really were, you wouldn't get burnt."

With a snarl he gets up and walks over to the fireplace, the flames casting dark shadows across his face.

It's like all of the heat has been ripped from my body and is floating far off into the distance, as I begin to drift off and the last sight that stains my eyelids is Viserys reaching into the depths of the fire, his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and his jaw locked in determination.

  


"Ah how wonderful, I did wonder when we would see you again."

Groggily I sit up and am glad for the pyjamas I'm wearing so I don't flash Tyrion again. The red pyjamas, albeit a long nightgown, help make me feel even more comfortable amongst the pillows, blankets and the bench that is practically a small bed.

"And here I thought you did not have clothes wherever you disappear to. By the way, do you still have your... phone? I do wish to learn more about it."

"Nah," I answered, "Some dude called Baywatch or something took it off of me."

"Baywatch?" he echoed quietly before wondering aloud, "Could you mean Baelish?"

"Yeah, that's the pimp," I affirm before querying, "Why? How do you know him?"

Tyrion took a long sip of his wine before admitting, "He is on the small council."

"What's that?"

"The small council is a group of idiots that come together, usually accompanied by the king, to discuss how to spend the crown's money. For example, the current council complies of the owner of a brothel, a eunuch, an old man who is swayed by the brothel and the Hand of the King who is now dead."

"So the creepy geezer fucks Baelish's bitches whilst he pimps out the small council because the king is too fat and lazy to do anything?" Tyrion did not reply so he drank again as I asked, "So are we near... wherever the fuck it was you were heading to?"

He nodded as he finished the rest of his wine, placing the goblet down on a book, next to an empty one already there. As he picked up the wine pitcher to fill them he began to divulge, "Winterfell. Home of the Starks-"

"Oh, I know them! They're cool except the Mum, she's kind of a bitch but I would be too if I had a face that looked like my crotch had been on fire since birth."

Ignoring me as he filled the opposite glass, he continued as if he had not been interrupted, "Who are the keepers of the North. King Robert has been friends with Ned Stark since before the rebellion. I believe he wishes to make Ned the Hand because he wouldn't have brought most of the royal family up North this far."

The carriage swerved slightly and Tyrion stopped pouring the wine in the second glass before passing it to me so he could take a sip of his wine. I did the same and nearly gagged because holy shit why does it taste rancid.

"Apologies for the wine. We've begun to run out and it was this Dornish shit or just water and I can't stand Cersei sober. You can just put it down. Actually, it may be the best thing because we are about to stop away from the carriages."

"Away?"

"Yes. I don't wish to be near my sister so we are making a detour that I don't think you will enjoy. I am going to enjoy myself at a brothel."

Nodding, I wipe my mouth with the neckline of the nightgown and lean over to put the glass on the book just as the carriage begins to slow.

"I advise you change into something...warm," when the carriage came to a stop he bowed his head, pushed open the door and leapt out whilst slamming the door behind him.

_No shit... It is called Winterfell._

  


The ride has been a long one and in that time I've managed to wrestle my body into a corset that tied at the front, a tight fitting black dress with a gold band that fit under my bust. I've also managed to sing all of the parts to Lion King, drank the rest of the wine and read a boring book on history. I mean it had dragons but still...

I learnt something. The dragon that Viserys had been so fascinated with actually existed. Like, real motherfucking dragons like Benedict Cumberbatch as Smaug. So maybe Daenerys is the dragon. But if she's the dragon...Viserys is so fucked.

The coach jolts to a stop and through the thick curtain blocking the sunlight I can hear the whistling of the harsh, bitter icy wind of the warmest family in all of this world. I can hardly feel the cold given the warmth of the blankets and the surprisingly thick dress. Perhaps it would be easier to just close my eyes and drift off-

**Knock, knock**

_Nevermind._

The door to the carriage creaks open and in front appears...another little psychopath.

"My lady, may I escort you-"

"Nah, I'm good."

With a slight cough, Joffrey thrust his hand out to me and 'offered'," My lady, may I escort you to the feast?"

Rolling my eyes, I take his hand and step down out of the carriage, sweeping my gaze over the small crowd of people and Sandor standing next to the carriage. I send a smile his way and am rewarded by Joffrey yanking my arm to hasten my steps to the Starks.

_Where's Jon?_

"Joffrey, darling, come. We must get to our rooms."

Scowling Joffrey replied, "But Mother I wish to spend time with-"

"Joffrey please, not now. Lady Stark would you be so kind?" A fake smile was sent Catelyn's way and with a curtsey, she turned and lead the Queen, her brat son and her other two children away. Sandor followed closely behind with a slow gate and a steady hand on his sword, his helmet remaining clamped shut to reveal a horrifying wolf face with giant teeth.

_It's so cruel. To think, someone so kind can be treated so horribly. It's fucking bullshit._

"Y/N, are you alright?"

Jerkily I whirl around and whack into the body of Robb Stark. Gazing deep into his cerulean eyes, scanning the depths of his face, I reach an ultimate epiphany that can change the fate of my world and the world of many.

"Dude, you shaved." He raised an eyebrow but before he could say anything I had grabbed his arm and began to drag him in the direction of the big building I had been in when I first arrived at Winterfell.

  


"Y/N, I do not think this is safe nor appropriate."

"How the fuck else am I gonna shave my hairy ass legs?"

Currently, Robb was stood in his full clothes by the closed and now locked door, watching me warily wave the blade around my legs as I try really hard not to split a main vein and bleed to death because after about a week in this world without Wi-Fi or fanfiction or anything, my legs are surrounded in thick stubble. So here I am, sat on a stool with a bucket of water by my feet and my dress yanked up to my knickers and held there by my elbows just to stop flashing anyone in the vicinity.

Just as I press the blade to bare skin, the blade is yanked away by Robb and with a sigh he kneels onto the floor besides me. His chin almost rests on my bent knee and his breath licks my skin as he offers, "Let me do it. You'll hurt yourself." As he grasps my ankle, pulling a jar out of his pocket I realise that I'm going to get a bush. For fuck's sake.

A few warm strokes that leave a creamy white substance on my legs, the blade is gently pushed against my skin and slides soundlessly before being dipped into the water with each stroke. The only sound came from Robb's lips as he whistled.

"What are you whistling?"

Flicking his eyes up to stare at my face he puts the blade in the water to wipe his hands off, finished with one leg, before answering, "The Bear and the Maiden Fair."

"How does it go?"

Robb drew the blade from the murky depths of the bucket before continuing with the other leg; silent as he worked. Only when he was almost done did he start to sing.

"From there, to here. From here! To there! All black and brown and covered in hair! He smelled that girl on the summer air! The bear! The bear! The maiden fair~" Putting on a high pitched voice to imitate a woman, he sang, "Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair! I'll never dance with a hairy bear! I called a knight, but you're a bear! All black and brown and covered in hair~"

_If I get to save anyone in this world, please let it be Robb Stark. He doesn't deserve to die._

  


_Never mind. Robb Stark deserves to die in a fire. A very hot fire._

It was no wonder that Robb had been so willing to help me, other than him being a nice guy, because no sooner had he walked me to the eating hall, he ditched me with his sister. Not the cool, short tomboy-ish one.

The _other_ one.

Sansa Stark with vibrant, apparently Tully red hair, was incredibly dull. All she wants to babble on about is Joffrey and her plans to marry him. I mean if it was over someone cool or handsome or intelligent or not a complete and utter dickhead like Ciel Phantomhive or Tom Hiddleston or even young Tom Riddle. But no, the bitch wanted to talk about Joffrey. All. The. Time.

"-If I become his wife someday, I'll become queen!"

Glancing around the room I notice the unnerving stare of the blonde twerp and meet it steadily.

Sure, he's not bad-looking; a Draco Malfoy wannabe. Yet underneath all of the slick blonde hair, chiselled face and lean body there is a cruel ice that bleeds from his soul into his eyes. It is this same cruelty that would look like madness if I hadn't of seen it on Viserys' face the night before as he thrust his hands into the depths of the flames. Money isn't lost on this kid because he's the son of the King and the grandson of the richest pimp in the lands but kindness is. One look at Joffrey tells me: here is a kid who got everything they wanted but not enough attention . Here is a kid who will grow up believing they can treat others like shit because that's all they've seen. Here is a kid who will become a man to afraid to fight but very capable of commanding others to die and relishing in their pain. Here is Joffrey. Alive.

_For now._

"He's looking at me, Jeyne! Look!" Sansa hisses to the mousy brown-haired girl sat next to her, trying her best to appear calm with a magenta coloured face.

A lewd smirk spread over Joffrey's face and a sick interest clouds his gaze as he refuses to meet anybody's eyes but mine so I sigh, take a long sip of my wine and get up from the table and take my full plate with me out of the hall before anybody can say anything.

Deep thudding echoes in my head as I step hastily through the halls, trying not to be seen as I search for Jon who hadn't been at the feast. From what I heard from the people gathered in the hall it's because he's a bastard. Fucking bullshit. Catelyn's just a stuck up bitch.

Finally, my brain has caught up with the fact that the door in front of me has opened to reveal the outside and a man dressed all in black furs is walking past me with a kind smile and the age does nothing to hide the fact that he has a kind, if not incredibly worn out, face and he is gone into the depths of the warm hallways and out of my sight.

_Now onto the courtyard._

With a hand on the bottom of the plate, I use my other hand to protect the food and hold the napkins I had placed on top to keep it warm and hurry out of the slowly closing door.

  


Tyrion had just walked past me as well, obviously not noticing me as he swayed in his steps, eyes glazes with the effect of the alcohol he's drained from the now empty goblet dangling from his fingertips. Stepping around him was easy, trying not to trip on him in heels with a long skirt in the snow was difficult. It's like Bambi on ice next to a miniature Bambi.

After that small disaster that made Tyrion slide across the ground on his back like an over-turned turtle, I meandered around obvious ice patches and wandered into the area where Jon Snow was stood with sword in hand as he hacked away at a straw puppet thing that may have originally been a practise dummy.

"Hey dude, ease up on the... thing."

Jon stilled before gradually shifting to check the identity of the 'stranger'. At the sight of me a wide grin split his clean shaven face and he dropped the sword onto the ground before rushing over to me, gently taking the plate out of my hands and placing it daintily on the top of the nearest pole of the wooden fence in order to take my frostbitten hands in his.

"Lady Y/N, a pleasure to see you again but... why are you not with the others, enjoying the feast?"

I move my mouth to speak but find myself too frozen to let any words escape, a simple pant of air that coils softly in the breeze lifts from my lips and fills the space between our close faces. Bitter lashes of piercing ice slash harshly against my bare skin, wriggling under my increasingly damp clothes from the snow. It's snowing heavily now, staining the dark wool of my dress and probably making my lips as blue as a corpse.

_I could actually die here. I could become a corpse._

The thought horrifies me and makes me realise that the fanfiction never tells it as it is because no one has actually lived it. No one talks about the overwhelming fear, the burning passion people make you feel for them and the comfort that death is the only exit from this world. No modern reader fanfiction mentions how you have to squat over a hole in stone, take a dump and then wipe your ass with either a piece of fabric you've managed to nick from somewhere or use a stick with a manky sponge attached otherwise it's disgusting to just walk around with human feces still attached to your skin. No one talks about the lack of privacy, the reality of the situation or the need to get home because that's all I want right now. To get the fuck out of here and go home.

I can't even cry because the water in my eyes is beginning to freeze.

Jon's face is barely visible now and I can feel the wind pushing me side to side, making me sway in place on unsteady heeled feet. The blood in my veins must be stopping but my brain is still working enough for me to think back to all of the stupid shit I've done like that one time at school...

The world around me is dimming but is not dark and there is no feeling of being pulled. In fact, it's as if I'm being carried for once and the world continues to dim until there is only a flicker of moonlight in my vision.

  


_The light...hadn't gone out? I hadn't fallen asleep? How?_

"She's good now, she's safe, Snow. Now le' the girl ge' used to her surroundin's for a secon'."

I'm in a kitchen of some sort, sat on a stool and wrapped tightly in a simple white bed sheet type robe. There's no sleeves but it's not got microfibers so I wouldn't call it a towel but I feel warmer than ever, especially with the fire raging at my back. In front of me, it's all stone walls with a extended table that spans the length of the room; cupboards dotted around the walls that are littered with various plants, jars and other food stuffs. Jon's sat on a chair next to me; his unruly hair wilder than ever as if he had tried to rip it out with stress. Other than us the only other women, who had spoke before, was a plump woman with milky skin and corn coloured hair piled into a knot at the top of her head.

"I sugges' you take her up before the Lady ca'ches you wit' her. I'll get ya your gloves back on the morrow. Good luck, Snow," she pats his shoulder with a find smile that cause many wrinkles to smile on her face that show her as a kind, matronly woman that clearly cares for him.

Shakily I stand up, clutching the blanket tight to me, and I would have face planted the very solid table if not for Jon grabbing me by the shoulders and wordlessly swinging me up into his arms and beginning to carry me out of the kitchen and through the halls.

As we continue through the winding halls, passing no one in the shadows left by the lack of candles and only when the light of the candles is heavy and often enough that no space of wall is left in darkness, Jon begins to laugh.

Not just chuckle or giggle or whatever but a full laugh that echoes in the otherwise quiet halls and warms the chilled path we are venturing down. It's nice considering my thoughts of impending doom and the hygiene of this world. But nice none the less.

As his laughter ebbs off I ask, "Gloves?"

"Gloves," he states, "Like the ones I gave you in the hopes to stop you from fainting or dying from hypothermia."

"I DON'T CARE!" Something crashes against the door nearest us and I flinch in response.

_Well I know for a fact that wasn't me. A quick glance at Jon's shocked face and also the fact that the voice hasn't hit puberty yet._

"I DON'T WANT TO MARRY THE STARK GIRL!"

"Then who Joffrey?" the voice is very clearly Cersei's and so Jon freezes in step and we listen in.

"Y/N!"

_Nope. Nope. Nope._

"I WON'T MARRY ANYONE ELSE! I WON'T, I WON'T, I WON'T!"

Finally, Jon moves away and I'm left to think about how crazy the men in this world are as I start to fade out of consciousness whilst nestling into the protection of my savior's arms.


	9. Circle of Life (Chapter 8)

"Well...fuck. You know, honestly, I have had enough of this bullshit."

I had awoken to the sight of spears being thrust into my face, close enough that despite the freezing snow my back was deeply lodged in, I could feel the biting iciness from the metal. So close to my face that if I struggle or breathe too hard I could cut myself. The people above re heavily wrapped in furs tied clumsily with rope and decorated with various adornments. One wears a string of seashells in various sandy colours on a long rope that lays over their chest. Another wears a string of small bones in various strings of connected rope.

"UP!" A spear swipes the air next to my ear before the staff of wood raps against my skull twice. The throbbing pain of a headache awakens and I can barely hide the grimace of pain before arms reach out and pull me from the depths of my newest resting place and I'm dragged up into a standing position. Soaked, my dress sticks to my skin heavily despite the obvious cold it burns my skin.

"-take her back-"

"-who's going-"

"-Rayder-"

The babble continues amongst those gathered and I can feel my teeth begin to worry away at my mouth in an uneasy chatter. Bleeding is almost painless as the blood from my lips begins to trail down my chin. Even that's not warm.

_I swear if I die of fucking hypothermia I am going to be so pissed. I am so done with this world. So done._

  


After being manhandled and placed over a tall someone's shoulder, the group of new people hurried back to a camp filled with life.

Bustling mothers hurried after feral looking children with small weapons strapped to their backs, some with babes clutched to their chest whilst the children are swaddled in various different coloured furs. Men of varying sizes loitered around the camp in groups with watchful eyes that were almost calculating if not for the dead, disinterested glaze over their vision. Multiple tents stood guard, creating a meandering path that was flat like the pavement beside a road. All of these links lead to a decorated tent in the middle, devoid of wear and tear like the majority of the others. Whoever is in that tent must be incredibly important...or the boss on a video game level.

_Whichever came first._

With a thud, I'm dropped ungracefully on the ground before the tent's opening and the man who had been carrying me pulls the furs aside to create a gap large enough for me to have entrance yet I can't see anything.

A sigh emphasises the time that has gone by and with one final shove I tumble into the tent with the furs falling shut behind me like the curtains at the end of the theater.

_This is starting to feel like a shit porno._

"Stand up, stranger and state your business."

"I'm good here, thanks," I muttered, face down on the warm fur covered ground as I rubbed my face against it, not caring about the dirt.

The pop of a cork alerts me to how near the guy is and so I roll over, the heat slowly seeping into my bones and watch as the small strobes of candlelight show slivers of a tall, but not incredibly so, man with long greying hair and a wrinkled face, most prominent around his mouth and eyes as if he's spent a lot of time laughing. He's lean and despite his obvious aging, he's as lithe as a young man.

"Now, hurry up and stand, stranger, so we can get you out of those wet clothes. You'll freeze on a night like this."

  


"Sorry about this but we'll get you into actual clothes soon. I just need to ask you a few questions."

"Can I know who's asking the questions?"

His lips quirk into a small smile before he answers, "Mance Rayder. I'm the King Beyond the Wall. Now who are you?"

"Y/N L/N. No house. No family in this world," with a steady hand I reach out and slide a small cup over to me, filled with mead like a shitty ren faire. Taking a long sip, I feel it's warmth go all the way down my throat with an odd honey like flavour that makes it a slow path down. It's comforting because maybe I'm slowly becoming an alcoholic but it's taking the edge off of the chill still stuck to my soul.

"So what would you be doing if my scouts hadn't found you?"

"Freezing my tits off probably," another sip makes me wriggle in the chair and shift the fur blanket tighter around me. Once more, I'm naked in a blanket waiting for someone to come give me some clothes.

A small chuckle erupts from him and he takes a sip from his own bone cup before stating, "Someone should be here with some clothes for you. You're not a threat so we shall treat you as a friend but I want you to be honest with me right now. Can you do that?"

I nod slowly, fear beginning to rip the warmth of the drink and furs away from me.

"Good," a gentle nod from him and he lean back, "Now, how is it that you turned up in the snow in such rich clothing, this far North?"

"I-I fall asleep and appear places."

_Oh Lord that sounds so fake._

"Hmmm, okay."

_Wait, what?_

"I will need to consult my people but if you have been truthful, we welcome you as a friend. Hopefully, you will not cause too much conflict. Now, I believe a spear-wife is waiting for you outside the tent. Off you go, Y/N of L/N."

After being dismissed I hurriedly thank him for the food and stagger out of the tent into the pitch black night.

  


"Where ya from?"

"Not here."

"What's ya name?"

"Y/N."

I'd been answering questions like this ever since Ygritte had brought me to her tent and dressed me. Currently, she was tugging on my hair with a comb. It hurt. A lot.

"Can you stop doing that?"

I can feel her eyes roll as she yanks on my hair again before the comb is dropped to the ground and she backs off, standing up with a hand outstretched for me to take.

Slipping my hand into hers, she yanks me up forcefully and I stagger to my feet.

"So...Ygritte, what's a spear-wife?"

Letting go of my hand she picks up two furs, passes one to me before slipping into a thick looking mess of furs held together with ropes, just like the scouts were wearing before.

"A spear-wife is a woman who does the same job most men do. We're warriors. Why, got something against women who don't wear dresses?"

"Nah, man, back where I'm from most of us wear trousers. It's more convenient and if you can fight, you must be badass."

"What's badass mean?"

"You're tough," I reply as I unroll the fur and slip it onto my shoulders as a cloak so the heavy weight of the poor dead fox-thing weighs it to hang on my body instead of dropping. The cloak itself is a beautiful tan leather with a beautiful light brown pelt. "You don't take shit from nobody. People like you are the best type of people to be."

Ygritte's small smile seems almost shy if I didn't know any better. It's over as soon as it began and her freckled face relaxes as she slips on a bow and an arrow filled quiver onto her back. Securing the straps she nods to herself and walks out of the tent letting me observe the wold tangle of red hair.

_Wait a minute..._

"How come you don't comb your hair yet you yank on mine?"

"If ya want food, don't ask stupid questions," she called back over her shoulder as she speeds up. "Now hurry up."

"Hey, wait up!"

  


Around a fire, we all sat out in the open under the stars that I wouldn't see at home because of the pollution. Warmth cut through any tension before and I had been accepted into Ygritte's group of warriors. They were really important, apparently, because the giant man with a ginger bush on his face named Tormund is Mance's lieutenant. The others faded into the background as most people did these days because if they weren't trying to ask me if I was a danger, had an over the top personality or were just being absolute cock-sucking douche-nozzles, I can't be asked to give a shit.

So here I'm sat with a ring of warriors, having a meal of mead and a leg of lamb that Ygritte had thrust at me without warning, waiting for bullshit to start.

"What about the new girl, do you know any stories? I don't want to hear Tormund Tall-Talker talk about Sheila anymore."

"Yeah, might as well earn your food because you're too puny to put up much of a fight."

_Yep, bullshit has started but at least this time I can rip off someone without threat of copyright..._

Giving the dudes who had been talking the bird, I hurriedly swallow the meat I had been mindlessly chewing on and I wiped my mouth. A harsh cough burst from my chest but I ignored it and began with the greatest story known to man, "Long ago, in the Pride Lands of Africa, there ruled a great king. A lion of extreme kindness and...lion-ness I guess. The king's name was Mufasa."

"Mufasa? That's not a real name."

"Shut the fuck up, the girl's telling a story," hissed Ygritte as she settled closer next to me. "Why? Are you that lonely without the tale of Sheila?"

Ignoring them, I continue, "King Mufasa's son, Simba, was presented to the Pride as the next true king. Years later-"

"Wait, why did you-"

The nameless man was hit in the face with Tormund's fist and a wordless nod bid me to continue so I do after a swig of mead.

"Mufasa shows young Simba the Pride Lands and explains to him the responsibilities of kingship and the "circle of life" which connects all living things," just as someone opened their mouths to ask the stupid fucking question I answered with, "The circle of life is a pretty good song by Elton John but it is also the belief that we give back to the Earth. So um, like that... bird up there," I point to the conveniently placed bird flying low enough for me to see, "When that bird dies it will return to the Earth and become food for the grass and other animals. Once it feeds the grass, animals will eat it, give birth to more life and the circle goes on. Hence, Circle of Life. Any questions?"

"Yeah, just one," asked another nameless man that had taken the place of another, "What's a lion?"

"Doesn't matter, do you want the story or not?" With no reply I sigh, take another sip of mead before continuing with no intention of stopping regardless of whatever happens, "Mufasa's younger brother is a dick called Scar because he has a scar on his eye and yeah it's dumb but roll with it. Anyway, this motherfucker says to Simba: 'Yo, nephew, waddup! Anyway, you know that place your dad said don't go? Yeah, fuck him. Go with your friend Nala or whatever who's future queen and go fuck shit up.' Because kids are stupid, he does and the little shit almost gets eaten by three hyenas who are Scar's evil henchmen. Mufasa stops it because he is a fucking badass like my girl Ygritte over here, and fucks shit up _in a good way._ Anyway, he gives some boring ass speech about watching over him in death but whatever."

A few more men had come over to join the circle and so Ygritte was forced into my side, stealing my food as she did. Tormund stood his ground and glowered at anyone who tried to force him up along the wooden log we were sat on.

"Next day, shit goes down. Scar tricks his dumbass nephew Simba to come down into a big ass space between two cliffs that no one can escape from obviously. Scar's douche-bags get a stampede of wilder-beasts to stampede down the gorge and squash Simba now that Scar has abandoned him. Scar has told Mufasa his nephew is in danger so...he sacrifices himself to save his son. Dumb-ass Simba is left next to his father's broken body to mourn alone. Fuck you Scar. Dick," I cut myself off and take a deep glug of mead and...are those tears starting to well up in my eyes?

"Go on, what happened next," encourages Ygritte next to me with a gentle jab in the ribs with her elbow.

"Simba escapes an assassination attempt, because it's Disney, and after collapsing in a random desert, comes across the comedic relief of this story-"

"Well it's not you, that's fa' sure."

"-Timon and Pumba, a meerkat and a warthog respectively. So through the medium of song, the great Hakuna Matata which means 'no worries', Simba grows into a fabulous adult with a wild mane of red hair, and becomes a glorified hippie. One day, a lioness tries to eat Pumba but upon seeing Simba, she reveals she is Nala from his childhood. Also, she's now a whiny bitch who tells him he needs to be the king he once sang about being which was kind of a prophecy because it was basically what happens when his dad dies. What a jerk. So they fuck to Elton John and her pussy convinces him to fuck Scar up who is now King because fuck women, am I right? Oh, wait! Rafiki is a monkey shaman who makes a bullshit speech about 'remembering who he truly is'. So, in the end, they fight Scar and once Scar is dead the living live happily ever after. The end...Until the sequels."

No one says anything. Literally, it's silent in the camp called the Fist of The First Men. _Perhaps my great storytelling shut everyone up?_

A hand clasps on my shoulder and I look up and lean back to discover it's Mance who was behind me along with a raggedy man with cloudy eyes that almost looks high. With deep bags accompanied by dark circle straight out of a Tim Burton flick, he is the image of a corpse if not for the ruddy cheeks raised by the cold.

"Come, it's time."

  


Most people had gone to bed by this point because the night was at it's darkness. The fire is slowly dying leaving the moonlight to illuminate the ground.

"I'm not joining a cult am I? Because I'm not into cults, I already write fanfiction, that's weird enough."

Sat in Mance's tent once more, I can finally observe the clothes Ygritte forced me into in an effort to not panic. With tight dark maroon trews and a small shift in the same colour underneath, the tan over-shirt and sleeves match my leather boots and the leather of the cloak.

"No, I wanted you to meet Orell. Orell's a warg," my face clearly states my confusion and Mance answers with, "He can see through the eyes of an animal and use it to do his bidding. Orell may be able to help you with...your gift."

"My gift? Dude, it's more like a curse."

"Someone from another world," Orell begins with a far-away tone as he looks off into the distance, "Can change the future."

"What the fuck are you looking at?" I pivot on the ground where I'm sat with my legs crossed to see nothing but the tent wall behind me. "Seriously, what drugs do you people take? Are you taking crack?"

"Your world is just beyon' your sight ye' within yo' reach if this world is done wit' you. Soon the circle of life will return ta the norm," with a final look devoid of life he staggers into a standing position and wobbles shakily out of the tent leaving me alone with Mance.

"Did you understand any of that?"

His shaking head is all that I need to fall back and lay on the floor, barely controlling the urge to scream and throw a tantrum because this world is fucking bogus.

"You may go back to eat with the others now, I must speak with someone else here."

_Who the fuck am I to say no to not joining a cult? Or taking drugs or whatever the fuck happened here...Now, I wonder if they have any more alcohol?_

  


"You know lass, you know, I could steal ya."

Snorting, I almost fall off of the log remembering what Jon had told me before. _Wildlings steal their brides_ , "Pfft, nah mate. I don't need no man."

Tormund lopsidedly smiled at me, "Why no'? Everybody needs someone to warm their bed at nigh'. Why not a comely lass like you?"

"'Cause I ain't a fucking bear and unless I'm down under, my name ain't Sheila the She-Bear. Even then I'm not a She-Bear."

"Yeah, fuck off Tormund. Leave her alone."

"Ygritte! You're here too!" I cry and almost fall off the bench trying to turn and grab for her whilst leaning too far off the log to reach her standing figure. "I love mead! It's like honey but it's a drink!"

"The girl can't hold her drink obviously," Ygritte rolled her eyes before yanking me up by the arms and began to drag me by placing her arms under my arms and locking them around my front. "Let's get you to bed so you can sleep it off."

"Ygritte, bet I could steal her. She's wild and could become a good spear-wife in time. Tell ya what, I'll try and steal her tonight. You can be he family to fight me off. What do ya say?"

Ygritte didn't answer, she simply began to drag me back faster until I was almost completely passed out in her arms with the snow licking weakly at my legs without the threat of hypothermia. Tormund left soon enough in the opposite direction but maybe it's just my eyes playing tricks because he kept looking back.

  


In the tent on the floor lay two sleeping mats with furs over the top placed close together. Ygritte had mover hers to the front of the tent nearest the flap and had a knife under her pillow along with one next to her feet. She didn't give me one...for literally no reason.

"Do ya have a man back home, Y/N?"

"Nah mate, just me," I answer and then yawn, wriggling down into the comforting embrace of the sleeping bag thing. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know anything about you so I just wanted to know what we're getting into. If you turn out to be a threat, I'll be the one to hunt you down."

"...Okay, goodnight!" The falsetto voice is high and joy-filled so I turn away from her and pull the sheets up over my head and settle down, waiting for that feeling of disappearing.

Something begins to creep up my legs but before I can freak I realise everything is numb and once again the darkness unnder the furs transitions into an even darker mess of shadows as I plummet out of the place.


	10. Knock. Knock. Motherfucker (Chapter 9)

Nausea rips me from my heavy slumber and at first, everything feels as normal as it can be despite all of the wrongs in this terrible world without the internet.

After stemming the need to spray my insides onto the ground, at least for the moment, on trembling legs I slowly push myself from the floor into a shaky standing position that allows me to take in the dizzying world around me.

Labyrinthine gnarled tree roots covered the ground with a few cracks of hard freezing stone peeking and canvased the walls, leading into a weaved ceiling. Lengths of leafed branches sprouted into the thick air that was almost suffocating. Save for the minuscule strobes of sunlight peeking through the gaps in the cavern's roof, the frosty darkness that reeks of the outdoors; trees, fresh air and possible decay and what I imagine loneliness must smell like.

Staggering I meander over the uneven floor towards the middle of the space where a cage-like structure is highlighted by the rays of light above it. Clasping onto the nearest branches when I almost fall over, I close my eyes with my head bowed in an effort to stop my stomach churning despite the burning at the base of my throat.

"Ah, here you are," an old voice echoes in the darkness surrounding me, "Y/N L/N, an outsider. A traveller from another world. The one who-"

The contents of my stomach empty itself onto the floor, spilling in a waterfall of various shades of the food I've been eating to land in a vast puddle before my feet at the base of the tree.

Wiping my mouth, I gaze in awe at the ancient man in the tree. Snow white hair cascades down the branches, reflecting the light like the moon itself was trapped in the strands of his hair. His crown is covered in pale skin with bumps and lumps, wrinkles and crevices that litter the rest of his face as well. Eyes of obsidian, like a raven's wings, bore into me.

Yet all that escapes my mouth in an awed whisper is: "Budget Gandalf."

A heavy sigh echoes in the cavern and the disappointment in his eyes outweighs the obvious knowledge embedded in his soul.

Something heavy drops in my stomach and without needing to look, having gone through this shit so many times, I ask,"Dude, you wouldn't know where I can get a tampon or something?"

  


After sorting myself, with a handkerchief given to me, out in a corner of the room, my cloak covering the small red stain on my brand new leather trousers, barely fighting the pain of my cramps, I sat in front of the tree base and began my audience with Tree Dumbledore.

"Please stop calling me that," he requested.

"Okay but you gotta tell me how you knew who I was. I mean it's not like you people have Facebook or even, God forbid, do you guys have MySpace?" at his silence I shrug, shuffling into a more comfortable position before re-asking, "No but seriously, how do you know who I am?"

"I know many things. I see many things-"

"How though?"

"-And I have been watching you for longer...Excuse me?"

"How?" I cross my legs and put a fist under my chin, "How have you seen things because from the looks of it, you have not been- Never mind, actually. What I want to know is how I ended up here."

"You were selected randomly to fulfill a simple purpose-"

"Wait a fucking minute here. You're telling me I was plucked from my comfy house and drop-kicked into this dumbass world because of a chance? This better be randomly selected rather than the 'randomly selected' that happens to certain people in airports because I swear to fucking God if this is a punishment I am going to be pissed. So, what's this bullshit purpose? WHY THE FUCK WAS I CHOSEN?"

"...I must not say."

Squinting, I peer harder at the cloaked old man, watching as the inky black rags shift in the almost non-existent breeze blowing in from somewhere behind me faintly. It takes me a while to find my voice before I start off in a harsh whisper, "You must not say? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No I am-"

"I wasn't finished," my voice wavers with anger but steadily begins to rise in volume, "I didn't do anything to deserve this. This isn't an honour. I don't like being here. I miss my house. I miss my bed. I miss not waking up in strange places. I mean, what happens if I wake up with a knife to my face? The fuck am I meant to do? Oh, never fear for, what's your name?"

"I have no name. But you may call me the Three Eyed Raven, rather than this nonsense-"

"Okay, so I'm meant to say Obi Wan Kenobi need my help and I turned up randomly? I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE! I WANT TO GO HOME0!" A sob cuts me off and suddenly I feel tiny, exhausted and younger than I am.

"You can go home. Yet, there are conditions," I don't say anything, already feeling tired and uneasy, "One of these conditions is ties to the land. This is important, as long as you have no real ties here, you will not be forced to say once your time is up. Another is..."

His voice trails off as the gentle breeze becomes a howling storm and I am swept off from the darkness to a place devoid of light and yet I feel calmer... for now.

  


"Lady Y/N?"

Bleary eyed, I quickly glance around the large room. A huge canopy bed with a fur blanket which I can feel brushing against my skin, and although the room is mostly bare with an empty fireplace and the bedside table is bare of any accessories, it is the young boy next to the bed who wakes me.

Sitting up, I observe the wide-eyed child gripping heavily onto a small kitten.

"Lady Y/N?" he asks once more.

"Yeah?"

Sheepishly he averts his eyes from my face and looks at the tiny cat in his arms, "I-I have a favour to ask."

"You're a Lannister kid, right? Tom-something?"

Nodding he corrects me quietly, "Tommen."

"Alright, what do you want?"

"I-It's my cat," looking for all the world the child he really is; innocent, sweet and anything but Lannister, "Ser Pounce. Mother doesn't know that I brought him with us because Uncle Tyrion brought him up for me and w-well..." he trails off, stroking the pet in his arms with a fond smile.

"Well?"

"CanYouTakeHimWithYou?" he blurts out without taking a breath, leaving his pale skin to bloom with a rosy tint that spreads across his entire face.

"Sorry, what?"

Taking a deep breath before he speaks he finally meets my gaze again, "Can you take Ser Pounce with you? We're going back in the carriages but I'm worried Mother will make me ride with my brother and-"

"Okay, sure."

"-It's not that I don't like him but... Pardon?"

How can I roll my eyes at this sweet cinnamon roll? "Sure, I'll take the cat. But you do know that I won't always be with the cat, right?" His nod forced a heavy sigh to escape from me before I reiterated, "Fine. I'll keep the cat in the carriage. You can smuggle it out each day to eat and everything when you stop for the night."

A beam spreads across his face even quicker than the blush had, "Really? Thank you so much!" Ungracefully dropping the cat onto the bed, he swept me into a tight hug before backing off into the open doorway with a final solemn glance at Ser Pounce.

"HEY WAIT!"

"Yes Lady Y/N?"

"First of all, stop with the Lady. You call just call me my name. Second of all, how did you find me?" Pulling the cat into my lap, I begin to stroke his fur carefully.

"Oh that, La- Y/N, this was my room for the stay. Now I really have to go. Thank you. F-For looking after my cat, hopefully you won't disappear before King's Landing. Joffrey was right about you."

Fuck no.

Before I can say anything he's gone, slamming the door shut and leaving me alone with Ser Pounce.

I pick the cat up with both hands to stare me in the eye, "Looks like it's you and me dude, so, what are we gonna do?"

"Mew."

"We are not playing Pokemon Go. Wait, why am I talking to a cat?"

"Mew."

"Ugh, fine. You're no help. I'll just go find someone and maybe some chocolate..."

  


_Maybe I won't be seen. I've changed my underwear by going down to the kitchens and I'm still dressed in blood stained trousers._

"Y/N! THERE YOU ARE!" roared Robert, standing proud in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by his people and the Starks who were bidding goodbye to each other.

Waving at him from the staircase that would have lead to the courtyard anyway, I hurry down the stairs with the kitten snuggled under my armpit to hide him from plain sight.

Hopefully no one will notice the content tabby.

"COME OVER HERE, GIRL!"

Rushing past people with my head bowed in order to avoid the gazes of pretty much everyone. The courtyard is filled with boxes of cargo, many horses and two carriages.

"How are you? Disappearing again, girl?" Clapping a hand onto my shoulder, Robert smiled gently, "Never mind then. Good of you to join us because you will be sharing a carriage with the Stark girls who are coming with us."

"...Great..." I deserve an Oscar for my great acting at not being irritated. It's like a Bieber concert but forced onto me. Fuck my life.

Another smile and Robert is off, smiling and drinking heavily with his procession of weirdos following at his heels like ducklings. As Tommen follows his father he turns to me with a small smile before hurrying to catch up with the others.

Turning around, I spot the Starks. Robb stands proud next to his father, dressed well with a five o'clock shadow and a gentle smile. His sisters, hyper fangirl and tomboy, stand frozen with tears in their eyes that aren't flowing. The little boy next to them, curled blond hair and a cherub face, who I'm pretty sure is called Rickon, stands alone in front of Jon. Unseeing eyes gaze back at me.

At the sight of Jon I run over to him, pulling him tight into a hug. He's warm but remains like ice; solid and frozen. Only after a few seconds does he jolt out of it and hug me back with his arms around my back and his face against my neck.

"I missed you too dude." It's barely a whisper but I can feel his smile in my neck. Withdrawing, I look at him and see a smile on his face just like when we first met. "So, does this mean you're off?"

"To the wall. My uncle Benjen's here so he can take me up. Next time you see me, I'll be in black."

"Good luck, Jon Snow. Remember to take Ghost with you," at his name the wolf runs over to me and rubs his face against my leg like a cat, "He'll look after you. Besides, I will see you again."

"Will you now? Women aren't allowed at Castle Black," the teasing tone isn't hard to understand in his voice.

"Maybe...But remember that time I said I would appear in your bed? Better sleep with your clothes on," a wink is all it takes to send his face up in flames and with a laugh, a tight squeeze, I leave him and move on to Not-Dead-Sean Bean and Robb.

Ned Stark is grim. A tight line for lips, narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow make an intimidating man so I choose to speak to him first.

"Hi, you probably don't remember me but-"

"I do. Y/N L/N, friend of the King and the traveller sent by the Gods."

The tension is thick and unwelcome this close to his family so I ask, "By the way, where's your wife and other kid?"

Any peace or hint of optimism falls from his face as he gravely answers, "My wife is with our son Bran. Bran... fell from the tower. Now, no more of this," reaching behind him he pulls out a small parcel from nowhere, "A gift for you." Once pressed into my hands, I move to open the fur covered bundle but a steady hand covers it. "Not here. When you are in the carriage, but not here."

"Thank you. I'm sorry... for your son." _It's simple but what else can I say? I can't crack a joke. I have some morals._

Bowing his head he ages considerably, the lines of laughter casting deep shadows and ridges into his face before patting me on the shoulder. After an awkward amount of time he returns to watching the king's entourage with a dark look on his face.

When I turn to Robb, he steps towards me and sweeps me into a tight hug, his beard brushing against my face and consequently beginning to burn it.

Wriggling out of his grip, still in his hold I get to look in his eyes once more. Dark with something foreign in them that makes me a little bit uncomfortable.

"Will I see you again?"

"'Course, I can't control where I turn up."

"Watch out for my sisters," his hands slide down my arms before grasping my hands lightly, "Please. Whilst you're in Kings Landing." A simple nod is enough to make him grin once more before he whispers, "Thank you."

"No problem, but Robb, promise me one thing, yeah?"

"Anything. Anything at all," he smiles fondly and puts a hand under my chin to make sure my gaze meets his. "If you made me promise to get you the stars, I would try my best."

"Don't be a dumbass. Stay safe," standing on my tiptoes, I place a kiss on his cheek and I'm off out of his arms and walking off towards the carriages.

Straddling a horse near the carriage is Tyrion, near the man I remember drunkenly passing me in the halls. They're silent together: Tyrion; observant as ever and the other man almost falling off his horse in exhaustion despite the heavy looking black cloak he's wearing, the exact colour of Tyrion's horse.

"Lady Y/N! How good of you to see us off."

"Tyrion, nice to see you. How come you're not going-"

"Back down to King's Landing?" he interrupts and for once there's no wine on his person... that I can see. "Not yet, I'm heading to Castle Black with the bastard. When I get to the wall, I'm going to piss of the edge of it!"

My face screws up in disgust and he cackles at it, almost toppling off of his horse as he does so. "Dude..."

Once he has righted himself he coughs and slips a hand into a bag connected to his saddle, and withdrawing a bundle similar to the one I have under my other armpit (the one without the silent and most likely napping kitten). When I move to grab it, he grasps my wrist, bending down on his horse to state, "Open it when you are alone."

A nod is all I can give him before I'm being pushed into a carriage and so I settle down onto the plush bench in a carriage I had previously shared with Tyrion and so with closed eyes, I let the kitten down onto a pillow next to me for a light rest.

  


"That's the girl that Joffrey keeps talking about."

_Why couldn't I have just fallen asleep and disappeared?_

"I'm sure it's nothing though. Jeyne said-"

"Sansa, you know I don't care and neither does Nymeria or Lady."

Opening my eyes, I prop myself up on my elbows, stroke the cat quickly and watch it roll over onto it's back and mew cutely. At the sight I can feel myself smile and so I roll over slightly and the smile drops at the four other people in the carriage.

Sansa is sat poised on the other bench in a simple grey wool dress with a wolf motif at the center, embroidering a bundle of fabric whilst her sister Arya slouches, outfitted in a messy dress that once could have been identical to her sister's, whilst eating an apple. Two large wolves lay at their feet.

Deciding this is too much for me is an obvious choice so sitting up, I pull out the bundle from Ned Stark and open it. It's warm, even for fur, and yet it's easily open-able just by pulling by one edge of the fur. Inside lay three things: a letter, a locket on a chain and the clothes I had arrived in that are wrapped in a bundle themselves. The locket is silver, engraved with a wolf head.

"Why are you wearing trousers? You're not a man."

"So? Why does that mean I can't wear trousers?" I slip the contents of the bundle including my clothes back onto the skin and clumsily re-wrap it for later, holding it under my arm like I had and making sure Tyrion's gift was secure enough for me to keep hold of.

"Because you are a lady. How are you going to attract a man's attention by being so unladylike? How is a man going to make you-"

I snort and roll my eyes, meeting Arya's gaze as I state, "The only thing a man has ever made me is irritated."

Haughtily she straightens up even more, "Well I don't see-"

"Is that a cat?" Arya inquires before dropping the mostly uneaten apple on the floor for the dogs to fight over before hopping from the opposite bench to sit next to me, "Is he yours?"

"Yes, it's a cat and kinda. I'm looking after him for... a friend but the problem is I-"

"Don't worry, father told us of your circumstances. Your secret is safe with us," Arya smiled gently before picking the cat up and plopping him into her lap. "Do you want me to take care of him? While you travel?"

"Thank you, that's very generous of you. I mean if it's not too much troub-"

"Arya how are you going to look after Nymeria and a kitten and keep up with your lessons."

_Goddammit Sansa. Please just go back to talking about Joffrey._

"I'm sure she'll manage. Arya, you seem very capable. Besides, you can learn a lot more from the real world."

"How? A lady of the court needs to learn to be kind, gentle and above anything else, a good wife. Whether that is to be an excellent entertainer or to simply be by her husband's side." The obviously parroted words didn't sound right coming from anyone. I dread to think what Arya would sound like saying those things.

Tired of arguing I sigh heavily before stating, "Now I'm going to get some sleep. Arya, once again, thank you for looking after the cat. Nice time we talk, I can teach you some things if you really want," saying that I closed my eyes, snuggled deeper into the familiar pillows, aware of the blood probably seeping into them.

_Thank the Lannisters for being Gryffindor wannabes._


	11. Snoop Dogg With Tits (Chapter 10)

"So, Y/N L/N, you're here once again."

"Meow."

_What the..._

"I had one of my girls, I believe you've met her before. Jorlyn. She took your cloak from you and I have arranged for someone else to have cleaned your trousers. Apologies for any discomfort but I've had the girls dress you more... appropriately for the climate. Including sorting out your... problem."

"Meow."

Opening my eyes and taking in the man the opposite side of the desk, before I blurt out "Holy shit you're hot dude."

"Excuse me?"

Still slouched in the chair, I shrugged before continuing the nonsense babble, "You're good looking. Not Jensen Ackles good looking like Adonis the god or even Thorin's majesty. To be honest you're kinda Mark Sheppard hot but also-"

"Meow."

Struggling to sit up because of the weight of the packages weighing down my hips and the slippery surface of the dress sliding over the well polished oak wood of the curved chair, I asked, "When did you get a cat?"

The man across from me I recognised from the uniquely accented voice as Petyr Baelish, sighs with his hands sliding over the various open and aged books on his desk, skirting around the cat stretched across the unmarked wood. The cat...was Ser Pounce.

_But how did Ser Pounce get here from..._

"Ser Pounce?"

Obviously I had been thinking aloud so instead of jolting, I groggily stood up, gently pulled the cat into my arms then sat back down again without a word.

"You clearly are not in a mood for much talk so I propose a deal," Baelish leant back in his chair with a small smirk on his face. The Sherlock smirk; a smirk that told you that he thought he was the smartest person in the room.

"A deal?" I affirmed, watching how the silver bird pin glinted in the now setting sun as he drew his hands back to himself with his fingers interlocking under his chin, allowing him to lean forwards onto them.

"It's simple really. That is Prince Tommen's cat, is it not?" My lack of answer causes his smirk to grow wider, "Wouldn't it be a shame if when the young prince comes home, he finds his cat is not here or in worse..."

"Okay, so what? You help me sneak the cat into the castle, give it to the royal pet sitter and then what? We walk back here and talk?"

"No. You'll answer a few questions for me first," Baelish asserted looking like a smug prick who's face I want to put my fist through-

"Five," I cut my thoughts off, gripping the kitten tighter to me, "You get five questions."

His smirks droops and I avert my gaze so I don't fist pump in victory, studying the beautiful fabric of the grey and black dress with various shades of grey woven in to form shapes like butterflies contoured into the fabric. The neckline swoops down over the top of my breasts, giving a peek of cleavage but not enough that I could be called a street walker.

"First question; what is this?" Baelish opened a drawer on the left side of the desk and pulled out-

"MY PHONE!"

Baelish hugs the phone to his chest as I stand up, launching the cat from my lap and almost hop the desk in my effort to grab it. If not for the dress' material that is cinched around the waist, I could have achieved Olympic level wizardry.

Calmly, he puts the phone on the desk, allowing me to snatch it up. Sitting back down, cradling the phone to me like the child I will never have because I can barely look after myself...

"Next question," he asks after an uncomfortable few minutes where I scan the length of the phone, click the on and off button to find it's only at 50% charge and place it under my legs to hide it from the cat that had re-settled on my lap, "Why do you have this leather strap device?"

The leather strap was placed onto the desk, the same leather strap Tyrion had given me. So I answered, "To hold stuff under my dress."

"Yes, but why?" he pressed, his eyes intense as he searched my face as I sat unimpressed with a cat in my lap like a budget Bond villain.

"That's three questions and because if everyone knew about my phone, they would know about my circumstances."

"Your...circumstances?" Petyr pushes the leather thing to me so I take it, hike my skirt up and begin attaching it to my leg, thankful that the pouch of money is still there next to the hole where I slip my phone.

"Dude, I disappear when I sleep. You know, for a guy who looks like a pantomime villain, you're not very cunning."

With a resigned sigh he leant back in his chair, "Last question before we go to deliver the cat: who are you? Really?"

"Y/N L/N and I'm sick of everyone's shit. Also, before we go...I gotta shave my legs."

 

* * *

 

 

"So...No more Mulan songs?"

"Who?" asked Jorlyn as she sat on the floor next to my legs, lathering them with warm water and soap from a clay pot with her hands, massaging the muscles gently.

"Last time I was here...Never mind. Hey at least you're wearing more clothes, that's cool!"

"Yes, Lord Baelish decided it was best for your sensibilities for me to wear clothes in order to avoid any incidents. So he decided I would wear similar clothes to what you are wearing from now on."

"Yet skimpier."

Without sleeves or any decoration, the dark charcoal dress covered most of her body despite her legs peeking out through the slits on either side of the skirt.

"Yes well we have a standard to uphold," she rinsed her hands in the bucket my feet were soaking in before reaching to the side of her and pulling up a razor.

_A standard? Sure Jan._

Jorlyn began to graze the razor down my right leg in long, clean strokes in silence allowing me to listen to the world around me. Slithers of moans bled through the walls, the meow of cats, screams of children and the hustle and bustle of the street below where a market may be a few streets along.

"What happens to the cat if I'm not here?"

"Lord Baelish has arranged transport of the cat to the Red Keep directly so your walk would not have been needed," she shaved a long line down my leg at the very front before moving half an inch to the right and doing the same before stating, "It's nice though that this is your life, to be treated and cared for even if it is in such an establishment."

"Is it? Is this the real life?"

"I'm sorry?" she asked, faltering in her stroke so she pressed the blade into my skin but only shallowly cutting it at the back thus choosing to ignore it for now.

"Or is this just fantasy?"

"Caught in a landslide."

"I don't see how. You're sitting down," she pointed out as she continued on, guiding the blade around my ankle delicately as she did so.

"No escape from reality."

Jorlyn stopped in her movements before she looked around wide-eyed over her shoulder as if the thick mahogany door was spying on her, before she whispered, "I really shouldn't offer you this but we do have some Milk of the Poppy, some various herbs from Qarth and various amounts of wine if you need a quick release."

"Open your eyes. Look up to the skies and see," I trailed off, allowing Jorlyn the time to gaze up at the roof as she finished off my right leg before continuing on when she moved onto my left, "I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy."

"I shall get you some of those herbs," Jorlyn muttered as she stood up, with the blade still in hand, and walked over to the closed door. Opening it and peering out into the seemingly empty hallway, she beckoned someone over with a whistle and whispered something to them quickly before darting back into the room and looking intently at the candle lit in the middle of the day on a small table by the window behind me.

"Because I'm easy come, easy go. This is the earphone testing bit; little high, little low. Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me."

Jorlyn just ignored me.

"Mama, just killed a man," I stated and no sooner than the words slipped from my lips, Jorlyn was up, encircling my body with her arms protectively as she cooed into my ear.

"Oh you poor dear."

Sighing, I pushed her away, holding her warm hands and gazing into her young-ish face before stating, "I am going to teach you one of my home's greatest songs because you're pretty cool."

_Dammit guilt. Why can't I trick prostitutes like I can trick royalty?_

_Oh wait, stupid question. Damn these rich people._

 

* * *

 

 

A knock on the door more than an hour later stopped Jorlyn and I in our tracks, falling silent as she opened the door to reveal Baelish himself, dressed in a dark blue coat and brown trousers that he wasn't wearing earlier. His hands clasped behind his back, a small smirk on his face and his evil yet kind of cool goatee, I definitely understood why Jorlyn flattened herself against the door with her head bowed.

As he stepped through the doorway wordlessly Jorlyn left the room with a worry plastered on her face as she closed the door behind her.

Watching the door with his eyes on me felt like the longest stretch of time on Earth. Not the time it took for Joffrey's foul mouth to leave my skin, not the long moments it took for me to introduce myself to people and...there are really no other contenders except hanging out with Catelyn Stark.

"Ah, you know Cat. How fortunate. Do you happen to have any news concerning her?"

"Um...Her _husband_ is coming up to King's Landing to become something," I answered.

"Excellent," A grin spread over his face as he pulled his hands out from him and revealed a bottle of wine in one and a small ornate black box in the other. "A present, for you."

When he dropped the 'present' into my lap, the bottle of wine placed on the table next to the window, he said nothing more until his hand fell onto the doorknob as he turned to close it behind him.

"Wait."

He stilled but did not turn around.

"What's in the box?"

Baelish turned around and stood before me, gesturing for the box to be given to him. Once I had complied, he easily opened the box to reveal a beautiful cherry wood pipe with a small hole at the top and a beautiful curve connecting the pipe barrel to the long stem.

"Pipe weed. Commonly used to cure colds and help many of women's pains. Perhaps it will help your affliction. If not, well..." he trailed off a smirk growing as he passed the box to me before taking out the pipe once more.

"Drugs? I'm doing drugs now?"

"It will help ease your mind." His tone is calm but has a suspicious edge to it. I know I can't fight him so I sigh which causes his smirk to grow as he steps around me to stand by the window where he put the wine. "Please give me the box."

Passing it back over my shoulder I feel the cold metal of the ring on his finger graze my own hands before he's passing me back a loaded pipe that's smoking.

"Please, sit."

So I sat down and he stood behind me. A few seconds later he began to brush my hair.

We continued on in silence like that, listening to the echo of life continuing around us as he continued to brush my hair. When he put the brush down I could feel my eyelids getting heavier as I strained to stay upright on the seat and to keep the pipe in my hand. Petyr's hands smoothed my hair before beginning to twist and weave something into my hair.

His hands left my hair when he finished minutes later and suddenly I slipped off of the stool. Before I could hit the ground, I was drifting off and away; weightless.

 

* * *

 

Waking up this time left me with the equivalent of a hangover except I hadn't drunk anything during my time at Baelish's prostitute.

The pipe weed has left a bitter taste in my mouth besides the usual 'I haven't washed my mouth out' gunky taste. It's like I've been drinking the sourest cranberry juice available and then eaten 75% chocolate to rinse the taste out but it's just clung to the roof of my mouth, staining the back of my teeth awfully. I don't feel sick but my head is swimming and the room seems to swerve as I sit up and roll off of the bed onto the floor before I pull myself up and walk out of the open doorway...right into an old lady.

"Oh my Lord, I am so sorry!"

"No, no. It's fine. It's fine, you didn't knock me over so I'm fine."

As she rights herself I observe her matronly figure; curvy and extremely ginger. The woman's skin is cover in a smattering of freckles, a wart by her nose and a few acne or smallpox scars.

_God is real! Not everyone has perfect skin!_

"So...Where exactly is this?" I ask to distract myself from my possibly drug induced glee.

"The Crossroads Inn, milady," she answered dutifully, shifting her hips to support the weight of the basket even more to one side.

"Great and by any chance are any Lords staying here?"

"Yes milady, Lord Stark's family along with the King... You wouldn' happen to be Y/N L/N, wouldya?" At my nod she grabs my arm and pulls me along on the opposite side of her basket, babbling as we go; "And wouldnya know that my husband Travis died for the Starks years ago. Good family. Honorable people. Better customers. They're downstairs in the main hall discussin' somethin'."

Finally, we reached a gigantic set of doors at which she let go of my arm, smiled warmly at me and left me on my own.


	12. Young Trump In Westeros (Chapter 11)

An argument is growing as I nudge myself through a crowd of armored men in the house colors of the Lannisters, with a few Stark flags near the edges. The tension is thick enough that if it were anything but a metaphor, I could probably taste it.

When I emerged from the crowd I was greeted with the sight of Robert stood up; crown-less and possibly more sober than usual. His wife Cersei stood just behind his side and her disgusting son Joffrey next to her. Next to me stood Ned with Arya tucked under his arm and Sansa to her right with her eyes downcast.

"What of the beast that savaged your son?" Cersei spat at her husband with eyes narrowed in malice and her face pointed more than usual as if she had sucked on something particularly sour.

"What's going on?"

Robert swung around to face me before a dopey grin spread across his face as he spread his arms wide in greeting, "Ah Y/N, nice to see you. We can talk in a bit when this is dealt with."

"Well?" Cersei insisted haughtily.

Robert dropped his arms and grin immediately. "I'd forgot the damn wolf," Robert mentioned, turning around to face a guard in armour who coughed to gain his attention.

The knight paused before stating, "We found no trace of the direwolf, your grace."

"No?" Robert leisurely turned away from the nameless knight to Ned with a shrug, "So be it."

"We have another wolf," Cersei pointed out, causing Robert to turn around to face her.

"As you will," Robert gravely. He then turned back and began to walk through the crowd.

When he reached Ned, the other man turned to the King and said, "You can't mean it."

"Mean what? Dude, can someone explain what's going on because I am confused.com."

Ignoring me, everyone else watched the King and Lord Stark speak.

"A direwolf's no pet. Get her a dog. She'll be happier for it," Robert gruffly concluded to Ned before storming out of the room, men moving out of his way to let their King exit.

"He doesn't mean Lady, does he?" Sansa croaked, the tears already creeping into her tone.

_Oh, fuck no. A dog is not gonna die._

"No, no! Not Lady! Lady didn't bite anyone!" Sansa cried, her eyes bloodshot and her usually tame hair growing static, "SHE'S GOOD!"

"Lady wasn't there! You leave her alone!" Arya spat at Joffrey. With her back taught and a snarl on her face, she was like a wolf ready to strike.

Begging, Sansa reached for her father, grasping his clothes with a white knuckled grip, "Stop them. Please don't let them do it. Please, please, it wasn't Lady!"

"Is this your command, Your Grace?" Ned inquired; seeking another answer than the one he knew deep down he would receive.

"Where is the beast?"

A nameless knight stepped out of the crowd to the left of the Queen's back. "Chained up outside, Your Grace."

Cersei jutted her chin out at a rather intimidating man in the crowd before bidding, "Ser Ilyn, do me the honour."

"No. Jory..." A rugged, long, dark-haired white man in particularly grungy armour stepped forwards from behind Ser Ilyn. "Take the girls to their rooms," Ned bid before he turned to the Queen. "If it must be done, I'll do it myself," he elaborated.

The seconds seem to tick by more agonisingly slow than any point in my life before. Sansa's head practically burrows itself into her sister's shoulder and stays there in her smaller arms, held up by the strength of Arya's small and spiteful frame that's glaring daggers at Joffrey. The small wine coloured smirk on Cersei's face is almost non-existent yet it appears to be creeping along her face as well as her sons. Ned's eyes droop and his shoulders sag with the weight of what he is about to do. He looks so defeated, a man of such honour he allowed some stranger to roam around his house in nice clothes because he believed his Gods, the Gods of the North, had sent her. To see him so defeated, to see his children so small, is heartbreaking. I owe them so much...

And that is why I choose to speak up.

"I'll do it."

All eyes turn to me. The teary gaze of Sansa, the curious gaze of Ned, the and the numerous other gazes create a lump in my throat.

"A dad shouldn't be the reason why his daughter loses a pet. Especially if you can't say the pet ran away or some other bull-" Ned's pointed gaze cut me off.

Joffrey stepped forwards towards me with a hand outstretched, "My lady, perhaps-"

"That is acceptable," Cersei rolled her eyes before confirming, "You will execute the dreaded beast?"

"Uh...Sure."

"Then off you go. Although it is very unladylike, if you are so insistent I will grant you this. Prove your loyalty to your King."

"Um..." I stall, shifting my weight from foot to foot in a nervous jig. "I kinda need a sword or something though."

"The Hound has one, use that. Now _go._ " Cersei's eyes narrow as she

"Also, I have one request..."

"Did I stutter?"

"Mother." Joffrey's tone was wary with a bite to it as well that made Cersei's eyes widen a fraction and her forehead furrowed for a second.

With a sigh, Cersei closed her eyes briefly and asked, "I will grant you any request you name. Now, what is it you request of me?"

"My request... er... Oh! My request is that I get to burn the body so no one else gets to see it because it's fucking awful."

"Absolutely-"

 _"Mother._ Keep your word."

Cowed, Cersei gracefully sunk down onto a chair silently and took a long draw of her wine.

"Take the Hound with you," Joffrey demanded. It could have been an offer if not for the smirk on his face and his cruel personality that could easily make him the Trump of Westeros. "My personal guard will protect you and as Mother said, you can use his sword. Besides, it will be fun to see how he reacts to your little flame."

With that I hurried out of the room with my head down, my hands clenched tightly to my sides like that Arthur meme and my heart in my throat.

* * *

Gasping, I clutch the front of the dress with my dominant hand whilst the other is pressed against the stones embedded unevenly in the outside of the inn, as I stand next to the front door. Silent sobs escape me as my chest heaves. My heart has become a hammer, beating hard enough into my ribs to break free of my chest. Despite all of this, my face is as dry as the bones in a coffin. I had rushed out of that room like my ass was on fire and now I'm not even crying. How can I not be crying when I've signed my own death warrant? If I don't kill the dog, the Lannisters will surely have me offed brutally and if I do someone manage to stomach the idea of killing...

It's only when a fist lands next to my head, causing my hair to sway in the breeze created by the force, that I pull myself from my thoughts.

"What is it, girl? Why are you standing about as useful as a hole in the bottom of a fucking chamber pot?"

But I don't look at him, I look past his unfocused eyes. Past the horrific burns and the grease lank hair. Past his intimidatingly large figure towering over me. Instead, I look at the large war horse behind him.

Black as night, strongly built like a tank with a beautiful shiny coat and a snarl on his muzzle to rival the one on his master's face. Stranger, I think he's called, after a God which is kind of ironic despite the blasphemy it may be considered here. Yet there on his back is the body of a chubby young boy. I would have thought it would be just a young boy if I didn't see the harsh slashes across his back, the slowly shrinking stream of blood following the horse's side where his ginger lock's lay upon the head bent at an unnatural angle.

"Stop blubbering like a wounded cunt," he barked, his mouth curled in a snarl that reeked of cheap wine.

"You killed a kid?" My cheeks are wet once more but I can't hide my disgust on my face.

"Yes. What of it." It's more of a statement than an actual an actual question that he asks.

"You killed a kid! What the fuck!"

"Orders are orders. At least you're not seeing him in the way I have to present him to the little shit."

"Joffrey." At his nod I pushed myself off of the wall, determined to get away from the foul stench of his breath and investigate the smell coming from the direction of the horse. Sandor moving out of my way as I did so and slowly approached his horse.

_What the fuck has Joffrey got to do with this? He's just a whiny neo-nazi who's too pussy to actually do anything._

"Aye. The Prince ordered me to kill him hours before the older Stark girl's dog was officially condemned."

"Condemned?"

"You don't get to hurt a noble, not even a shit eating cunt like Joffrey without paying for it."

I call a question over my shoulder to him, "This kid... He was what, twelve, thirteen, maybe?"

"So what?"

"He's a fucking kid, do you not get that?" Finally, I look at him and realise that he's so used to this. He's so used to killing and following orders that it doesn't hurt him to kill a random child as much as it sickens me seeing this defiled corpse. So what is the point of arguing - _Oh God, what is that fucking smell?_ "And he smells of shit. Holy fucking shit, he pissed _and_ shit himself?"

"You done?" He ignores my question and can practically feel the rolling eyes of the man behind me.

"Yeah..." Reluctantly I avert my eyes from the body and look anywhere but at Sandor. How can I look at him? So I settle for focusing on the sound of his clanking armour moving towards me.

"Good," he replied. "Don't want you buggering about with your mouth open to fuck about every time something happens."

"By the way, I need a favour."

* * *

"There's a good girl. Who's a good girl? It's you~"

"Remind me why the fuck I'm helping you, you mad bitch?" he interrupts my petting the dog as he brings a chicken over to me, dropping it just out of reach of Lady where she's chained up.

"Because we're best friends? Well, after Jon at least. 'Cause Jon's my homie..." I trail off sheepishly at his glare so I sigh and then respond, "And there's a bottle of wine in Tyrion's carriage that you get if you help me."

"Ah, yes. And when I have to go before the fucking cunt that is Queen, what am I going to say?"

"Well for the small price of not getting me, your best friend, to lose their head and a few bits of gold-"

"Gold dragons."

"-You can say whatever you want to say as long as it doesn't send my head rolling."

"Alright, you mad bitch. So what was it you told the queen you were planning to do?"

"Oh, I said I was going to kill you-know-who," I jab my head in the direction of the dog before I continue, "She then told me to use your sword and then she said I get to, after I asked, burn the corpse, although she may want us to leave a dog sized pile of ashes behind."

Sandor shifted his gaze to the body of the chicken whose throat he must have slit because it lay still in a pile of its own blood before looking at Lady's large wolfish grin. "...We're gonna need a bigger chicken."

"By the way, do you know how to pick a lock?" I ask as I slide my hands off of Lady's fur to study the collar at her neck.

"There's no locks on those collars, girl." At this I let go of her collar, still sat cross-legged on the ground in front of her. "Men, not beasts, are usually cut out of them."

_Fucking hell._

"So... How do we get her out?"

Suddenly a heavy hand grabbed my shoulder and pushed me to the side with a grunt of, "Move."

The next few seconds felt like I was floating. Sandor pulled the sword from its place on his back, held it above his head before bringing it down with a steady swing onto Lady's chain, mere centimeters from her neck.

_God, if that was any fucking closer-_

"Here." Sandor slid his sword back into its sheath on his back and nudged the dog in my direction, allowing Lady to saunter over to me with the collar still at her neck.

"But the collar-"

"Look at it."

I complied and despite the lack of torch light, despite the moon light and a small torch that had been placed into a holder on the wall near the pole Lady had been chained to, it was hard to see so I grazed my hands over the cold steel to find out what he wanted to me to see. What I discovered was a large crack at the back of the collar that almost split the collar apart at the cook the chain had been attached to.

"See? They'll just think the dog pulled. Direwolves aren't talked about much down South but it may make them wary of the Starks if a dog managed to try to attack you. Now, move out of the way."

After I rolled out of the way, sitting next to the pole opposite where he was knelt down in the mud, with a view of the landscape and the empty night, he bent down and knelt down in the mud before the wolf and seized the collar in both hands. Within a few tense seconds, the collar snapped and fell from his hands to the ground with a thud.

"...The collar was kind of rusty."

"Shut up. Now get the other bitch to shut up before I make her."

Lady stood on all fours and began to growl. But not at Sandor (like she should have)... at a man standing behind him, dressed in a grey fabric shirt. black trousers with no shoes and a black pedo-stache.

" _I knew it_. A strange foreigner is not meant to be trusted. Just wait until I tell the queen," bragged the nameless greasy fuck head. "She'll probably give me your worthless cunt to ruin."

"Oh, great another fuck boy. How very droll." _If my eyes roll anymore they are going to fall right out of my skull onto the floor like dice in a casino._

"And who's this? Some worthless shithead whose only claim is his father or better brother?"

_That's when he knew, he fucked up._

* * *

"This is totally not what I had in mind."

"You got any better ideas?"

_Sure let's just rip off Snow White with the Huntsman giving the Evil Queen a body part from something other than the thing that should have been killed on her orders. Why not?_

Instead of stating my thoughts aloud, I inquire, "Any idea who he was? I only ask because I'm trying to distract myself from the savage wolf that's laid cutely in a less cute puddle with her head in my lap. You know, just girly things."

"Just a page cunt with hopes of becoming a hedge knight." Without needing me to ask he replied, "A commoner who becomes a knight through 'noble' deeds. Shouldn't be as pompous but all knights are fucking pricks."

"Why did you mention hedge knights?"

"Because he won't be missed. He's got no noble house on his uniform."

"So... This is CSI: Miami. Except, not in Miami and we're committing the crime. Also, which of us is the Who, a group, screaming. Can you be the Who?"

"Can you be quiet for more than five seconds?"

I nod.

"Do it then."

For a few seconds, the only sounds are the raucous laughter in the distance, the panting of Lady and the scraping of my nails against my hand to scratch off the drying blood.

"The dog has pale blue eyes, doesn't she?"

I squeeze Lady's panting and still wet, red muzzle shut and study the icy orbs of the dog who ripped a man's throat out in front of me. After I confirm her eye colour and release her muzzle, Sandor grunts and that's when I choose to peer over my shoulder at him.

"What are you... Oh God, he twitched. I think I'm gonna vomit."

Knelt over the corpse, Sandor uses his bare fingers to dig into the eye sockets of the boy. Spurts of blood pour down the already blood-stained face as each one pops from the eye socket, still connected to the body by a thin muscle.

At the sight, my stomach rolls and my insides burn as my last meal leaves the confines of my body. It didn't purge the horrible act I've become part of but it did empty my stomach enough for me to know that there's probably nothing else that can shock me.

"Here girl." He thrusts a heavily crumpled embroidered handkerchief at me as I straighten up.

Instead, I wipe my mouth wife my sleeve and hand him the curious item back with a simple comment, "Didn't think pink was your colour."

"It's not."

"So why-"

"Found it on the page. The cunt probably had it to wipe his cock at night. Now it can hold his eyes."

Ignoring the very creepy part of that statement, I trod over to the torch and slowly dragged it out of its place on the wall. Its warmth licked my bare skin and I flinched but other than the slight discomfort, there was no pain. Whatever had happened to Sandor, I couldn't force him to re-live it as the haunted look in his eyes would probably follow me even into the safety of my own world.

Lady remained sat next to the body until I approached with the torch at which point she retreated to sitting behind Sandor's legs with her eyes to the sky, the remnants of the useless chicken now picked clean of flesh as feathers stuck to her bloody jaws.

Lowering the torch to the body without dropping it was a hard job but when it was done, I observed the flames travelling over the bent body of the greasy prick who probably didn't deserve it but it seems that this world is kill or be killed. It's a overrated show anyway.

Sandor's hand landed on my shoulder and we began to walk away, leaving the body behind that I only notice now has the collar Lady had once worn.

* * *

We had arrived at the carriage in absolute silence, even the activity inside the inn had died down considerably.

Lady hopped in and curled herself up on my usual side of the carriage, her bloody muzzle blending in with the Lannister red fabrics of Tyrion's carriage.

Stepping into the carriage, I lifted Tyrion's seat up to reveal a few bottles of wine and a small chest probably full of clothes. Passing a large bottle to him, I shift back into the pillows, allowing Lady to place her head into my lap with her paws stretched in front.

Sandor opened the wine bottle by ripping the cork out with his teeth before pouring a small amount on his hands. He then proceeded to lean into the carriage where I was sat and dragged his hands down the skirt of my dress from my thigh to my knee.

 _"_ Why the fuck did wipe your hands on the bottom of my dress _?"_ I hiss at him; demanding an answer. I don't move in order to not shift the wolf, a wild animal, awake after seeing what she was capable of."The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Can't go back to the bitch alone with blood on my hands if you were meant to do the work, can I? Besides, didn't think _she'd_  let me live if I did."

"Here." He thrust a small bundle at me, which he had drawn from within his shirt. The bundle appeared to be the letters and packages from earlier.

I glimpse at him as he shuts the carriage door without another word and before I can thank him. I smile to myself in the more comfortable darkness; wriggling deep into the plush comforts of Lannister gold and snuggled deep into the pillows with Lady at my side. This time, I felt the burning consume my flesh, an increase of the pain that I had felt and had probably been the page's last feeling alive despite the wed mud and the fluffy fur of the dog at his throat.

* * *

_I'm so sick of this._

I woke up with a wall against my back and the dog in the same position she had been when I fell asleep. Using the wall as support, I crawl up the wall without really taking in my surroundings. How can I with what I just saw?

When I finally push away from the wall, I take in how frigid the wind is against the wet skinny legs that have been soaked despite the skirt in the way of the blood from last night; the only reminder physically of last night.

I also take in the man in the tree branches with his ancient head titled at me before I holler, "YOU AGAIN!"

"Yes, 'tis I," he declared. "'Twas also I that witnessed a great change in the world beyond my physical reach-"

"Look, Shakespeare. Not in the mood. Say what you're gonna say or just let me pass out on the floor here because it's probably cleaner than some places I've slept on before."

He squinted at me as if determining what course of action he would take before deciding on delivering a cryptic message, "You have altered the course of time. Luckily for you, the Gods favor your cause this once. No change to the timeline will occur this once."

"So you literally have nothing to say to me? No, congrats, you saved a dog! You get to go home for your kindness of being a decent human being? Or, congrats, you have helped a divine beast and we're sending you home as reward along with a lifetime supply of chocolate?"

"No," he affirmed.

"Man fuck this."

With that I flop back onto the floor and curl up on the crooked stones; defiantly ignoring the gaze of the old man in the tree to focus on the soft body of Lady who has fallen asleep against me."

My last thoughts in this place were simple:

_Fucking pointless._


	13. But First, Let Me Take A Selfie (Chapter 12)

Heavy panting next to me and the sloshing of water somewhere in the vicinity rouses me from what feel likes must have been a pipe dream. Groggily, I feel the exhaustion leave my body and shift my back against the thing pressing against my spine. I then proceed to fall flat on my back onto the floor as the support slips.

Rolling over onto my front I shake my head to clear my sight. When I finally push myself up, almost as if performing half of a press up that I will never do, I watch a pair of small bare feet mostly covered by a long hem of a heather nightdress weave in and out of the shadows cast from nearby dim candles, wander into view, pattering on the stone floor that raises the goosebumps on my neck and legs.

"Who are you?"

"Reasonable question all things considered. I did just turn up in your... bedroom." A bed, a bookcase stacked with peeling leather bound, dog-eared tomes, an uneven side table, an array of slim windows slotted in the walls and other accessories all in various shades of monotone, including grey all denote that it is a bedroom.  "I'm Y/N, you?"

"Shireen." Following a few seconds of me scrambling for purchase and moving into a sitting position, she hesitantly asks, "How did you get in my room? Also, how did you get the wolf in as well without anyone noticing you?"

At the mention of her presence, Lady stops drinking from the large wooden bowl placed on the floor and pads over to my side, stepping over the books I must have been leaning against as she does. Once at my side, she plops down and I observe her lick her jaws. The very same jaws that a while ago had ripped out a man's throat.

_Am not putting my hands anywhere fucking near that no matter how cute she is._

"I think it's some sort of magic. Less Hogwarts, more quirky Disney Channel movie type thing. I disappear in my sleep and appear random places."

"Are you a priestess like Melisandre? She has magic as well."

"Who the fu-"  _Shit, it's a kid, I can't swear. "_ -dge is that"

"A red priestess. They serve this God of Light and she wants to convert my Father. My Mother listens to everything she says. She listens to everyone..." The 'except me' was unspoken but from her sorrowful tone and her slumped form in the darkness, I could sense Shireen was looking for another person to share the burdens of her soul.

As an awkward human being, I have no idea what to say so I change the subject completely; "So... You like books?"

Shireen nodded stiffly, remaining mostly in the dark.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded again.

Barely resisting the urge to sigh, I noted, "You can come forward out of the shadows and talk to me. I don't bite, you know."

After a moment's hesitation, Shireen, making up her mind to come closer. When she steps forward into the light, her wariness (other than me being a stranger in a child's bedroom) seems much more obvious now. Decaying flesh, the same colour as fresh ashes, decorated half of her face and neck in a similar fashion to Sandor but on the opposite side.

Obviously, I had been staring, making her uncomfortable because she let out a small; "Oh." Her voice held a sorrow too old for her tiny form as she stated, "My face... It was affected by grey-scale."

"It's kind of cool," I blurt out, not stopping to think that a young girl from the Dark Times may want to be told that she is a temperature.

"Cool?"

"Where I'm from, it means... Something amazing. For example, it makes you unique and interesting to look at so you are amazing."

Steadily, a cherry tinted blush bleeds onto her cheek as 

A light bulb went off in my head. "Hey, do you want to take a picture?" I continue, not letting her ask the obvious question, "It's an instant image. Like a self-portrait of the moment." "Here look."

I slip my phone out of its place performed the standard procedure to get into my gallery and finding my weirdest yet best pictures; a collection of memes. I show it to her as she begins to descend to sitting on the floor, pushing books out of her way and placing them gently in a towering pile on her other side that isn't occupied by a direwolf.

"Why do the pictures have words over them?"

"To be funny..." I trail off.

"Oh." 

_Hello, darkness my old friend. I've come to talk with you again..._

To move past the harsh reality that everything is different and I am alone in this cold, desolate world, I hurry on. "Anyway-" I pause as I wait for her to be sat comfortably next to the direwolf, "Picture time! Ready, smile!"

**Click**

* * *

After a while of taking pictures in various poses, with Shireen's smile widening with each one and the sparkle of childhood wonder brightening with the different filters and editing stuff discovered, I began to yawn.

"Well, I guess I'm going to be going soon."

"Already? But you just got here!" The whine in her tone really showed off how young she is.

"Sorry kid. I can't really control it." Another yawn punctuates it.

"Before you go, can I ask you what her name is?" Shireen had settled into Lady's side and had a hand stroking her ears.

Obviously, I can't give her name. Sure, she's just a kid but if her dad is so important... I can't let word get back to the King or more importantly, the Evil Queen that the wolf isn't dead. I've seen Snow White. I know that shit goes down when the truth is revealed. So I ask, "What would you name her?"

"Well, a 'cool' name for her... Visenya. She was a warrior queen."

"Then Lady, you shall be Visenya!" I proclaim as the dog flops onto all fours, proceeding to roll onto her belly to be scratched by Shireen which sparks another ingenious idea. Casually I inquire (about as casually as someone can force responsibility onto another human being), "Oh, by the way, you seem to like the wolf. Would you mind taking care of her for me? Shireen, you've given her a badass name, you cleaned her off and you gave her water to drink. You'll be a great owner and direwolves are extremely loyal."

"I-

"Great! Well, now that that is sorted, I'm going to go ahead and pass out and oh fu-fudge. I'm still covered in blood."

Shireen's gaze shifts down to where I've looked, "Your dress... The hem is ruined. I'm sorry, I don't think I can fix it."

The patterning on the dress was almost the same shade as the greyscale, a beautiful grey that would match the decor of Shireen's room. I can understand why she would be drawn to it.

"Do you like it? The dress, I mean."

"Yes but-"

"You can have it. It's probably a bit big so you can just cut off the bloody part of it and burn it. Or just turn it into something else, I guess." I shrug and begin to pull my arms through the sleeves so my arms are in the main body of the dress rather than the sleeves so I can shrug out of it.

"No! That's too generous. You already have given me Visenya, I couldn't possibly-"

"You can just swap me something for it and you're doing me a favour taking her," I interrupt.

Peeking around the room, it's hard to spot anything that could cover my body enough for it not to freeze if I get stuck in Winterfell or the old man's cave from Legend of Zelda. The only blot of colour in the more lit room is the bundle peeking out from under the furs on the bed.

"Can I swap you for your yellow blanket?"

* * *

Passing out on the floor must have been the fastest I have ever done it because when I wake up, I can't remember how I fell asleep. I will, however, remember how I was woken up.

By being pushed into a freezing pond. Without the blanket.

"FUCK!"

* * *

Despite being rudely awoken, I was glad to be fished out of the waters, although I was wrapped in Shireen's blanket and frog-marched by two identical twin guards dressed in green. I soon found myself shivering and dripping, not in the nicer way, before Olenna Tyrell.

"Why must you always appear in my gardens? Granted, they're lovely but it would be much easier for you to appear inside so we do not have to bring you indoors. In just a bedsheet no less."

"S-S-Sorry," I stutter out through the cold seeping into my bones from the jade tile that seems to only have affected me because _I was thrown in a pond._

"For goodness sake, why are you in just a bedsheet?"

"I fell in the pond. Also, why the Hell do you have a such a cold pond? It's pretty warm here! Is it for cooling off by swimming or..." _Shit. I just answered my own question._

"Regardless, you can not remain in that. Luckily, we should be able to sort you out with something."

"No thanks, I-I'm good."

"Would you rather just wear the bedsheet for the rest of your time here?" An eyebrow is raised but she says gives me no room or time to answer. "No? I didn't think so."

The door creaked open to reveal a portly middle-aged woman dressed in a maxi dress with lace sleeves the same emerald green as the ivy vine wrapped around her head, her short mahogany hair curled at the ends.

"When I heard about a mysterious woman matching your appearance sudden arrival in my private gardens pond that is monitored, I called a tailor to put you into something more... appropriate," she directed at me. "Now, off you go. Leave me to my tea."

The tailor span on her heel and began to leave the way she came after bowing to the Lady. I quickly nodded to Olenna, mouthing my thanks before following behind her.

* * *

_My arms are burning from the strain of the heavy fabric and the time with my arms held above my head to make the measurements and fit me for a piece. Will this suffering never end-_

"For the sake of the Seven, it has only been a short time. Stop complaining!"

_Did not realise that I was monologuing out loud._

"Now, I'm finished on your dress. With this, the corset doesn't need to be as tight. There's enough fabric and support in the dress to cover anything anyway but the corset is a must for your modesty. It's not typical to Highgarden style, especially the styles inspired by Lady Margaery but at least it is quick to make."

A quick look at the mirror covered in fabric swathes revealed that despite my feet being bare, they could barely be seen under the dress hem.

"Turn, I need to put your hair up." As soon as I had pivoted on the small stool, she pulled a strand of hair a few inches wide from my face to the back of my head before pinning them with an almost heavy phone.

The tailor took a step back once done and smiled slightly as she beckoned me to step down.

"I believe you are acceptably dressed, take a look." A quick pull of the swathes let me look at my not completely awful appearance.

She was right, the heavily patterned corset didn't show through. The pale aquamarine, aero blue fabric bled into cherry blossom pinks and sea greens that decorated the skirt of the dress heavily in blots. Full-length sleeves with flared wrists were separated from the main dress by a medium width band of shining silver bands that also ran across the V-shaped neckline and under the armpits. A wide belt from the waist that pointed to the groin had small twinkling gems that twisted into amber from a variety of emeralds, sapphires and lilacs in the midday sun that shone through the wide open balcony. The flowing outer skirt would trail behind me like a cape as I walk without covering the beautiful swirls of colour.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what to say-"

"She is missing shoes."

In the reflection of the mirror, I could see more of Margaery than I really needed to see. Whereas my dress was pale, modest and flowed, hers was a proud robin egg blue with a cleavage-revealing neckline, a low back that might prove the dress to be backless and an array of straps holding the dress together. The dress was to her ankles and revealed a pair of gladiator style sandals that went up to her knees with blue butterflies on the leather straps spread evenly. Her hair was in a similar style to mine except her strands were braided and thicker.

Without more prompting, the unnamed tailor shuffled to behind the mirror before coming back with a pair of simple sandals, almost exactly like Margarey's except shorter and without the butterflies.

As soon as the shoes were passed to me, I slipped them on my feet and up my leg which meant I had to tie the leather strands behind my calves. By the time I was done, the tailor had gathered most of her belongings and stowed them in a large leather bag.

A wide smile, highlighting the apples of her cheeks with dimples in them, spread across Margaery's pink lips. "Thank you, Laryss. You truly are the best at your service in the whole of the Reach. We are so lucky to have you."

"Please, Lady Margaery. It is an honour to be of service to the Tyrells." As soon as she began to leave, she rotated and informed me, "Before I leave, here are your belongings."

Clearly, I hadn't noticed the disappearance of Tyrion's gift, Ned's gift or the strap which held the coin purse and my phone because they were pressed back into my hands, having been removed from her bag.

"Thank you."

With a curtsey, Laryss left the room.

The gentle smile fell off as soon as she had turned the corner, the other woman in the room's eyes hungry like a predator that tracked the tailor's movements even beyond the wall.

_Maybe the green of House Tyrell is actually more to do with the green of Slytherin. Ha! Good one, 10 points to Gryffindor!_

Margaery coughed, drawing me out of my thoughts before extending a hand to me. "Now come, let us go for the midday meal. You must be hungry after your shock this morning."

* * *

The walk down to where we were going to eat was filled with Margaery's idle chatter about the surroundings, fashion and random idle gossip.

Immediately upon turning a corner and walking the path to a large hexagonal pavilion. A large curved dome was supported over the base by multiple slim pillars at each point. In the noon's light, the white structure appeared to glow. Wrapping around the pillars were roses that weaved between the pillars in an array of colours; some almost golden in colour, some as blue as the sea, some bleached from the sun. In the centre of the pavilion sat a small table with three seats set up around its round perimeter. The table wasn't bare, far from it. Dozens of inviting tiny cakes, rose-shaped sweets and a whole other multitude of other delicious meals were sat upon emerald dishes with similarly fashioned cutlery.

_So why the FUCK DID WE HAVE TO SLOW DOWN WALKING TOWARDS IT?_

Margaery's pace slowed even more, almost dragging me to a stop behind her. Arm locked firmly around mine, it was very clear that she was in control.

The steps up to the pavilion were pristine. For a garden structure it was well maintained. Even the traditionally unruly plant seemed to bend to the members of the House using it as their sigil.

"I have asked my handmaidens to give us some privacy. Hopefully, you don't mind too much." There wasn't any room for arguments. Clearly a trait of the Tyrell women. "They will be in the area although, not too far away if you need anything. Simply put, they are a scream away." The dark twinkle of her eye and her words were far too suggestive to be just a thinly veiled threat.

I could have retorted but at that moment my stomach became a dying whale and I simply slumped into the nearest seat, waiting for Margaery to gracefully slide into her space and continue threatening me as if she was an under-dressed crime boss.

_To be fair to her, I don't think Robert De Niro could pull of that dress. Or the thing from Zootopia._

When she said nothing more, just reached for the beautiful crystal pitcher that once again had roses etched into it, I decided not to bring it up. No point fighting when there's free food.

As I I simply focused on the beautiful view of the garden from my seat in the pavilion. From there I could see from a gap in the surrounding hedges that were partially visible in the space to the left of Margaery's head.

From the nearest multi-tiered cake stand, I plucked a small cake the size of the base of a coke can that had a lemon slice on top of it. It melted in my mouth, leaving the sour tanginess to coat the back of my teeth.

"Do you know where we are sat?"

"Nope." I popped the 'p' and stuffed another small cake in my mouth, this time embellished with a golden rose petal on top.

"The Heart of Highgarden." Margaery had poured water as clear as the crystal pitcher it had been in, into three goblets and passed one to me. "It is said that blah blah blah blah..."

At this point I had stopped listening, choosing to nod and look at the beautiful landscape, still eating so I wouldn't have to talk. I recognised the pond from before with a mosaic of blue stones that trickled away to the typical Tyrell green before leaking into slithers between the white paving stones that were immaculate but not as pristine as the pavilion.

"Oh Willas! Come to join us for the midday meal?"

Out of the corner of my eye, the same way Margaery and I came into the pavilion, a man is using the railing to pull himself up with a cane held up against him. His golden hair, almost like the Lannisters in colour if not for the fact of the slight white tinge to it. His eyes shift from the brown that all of the Tyrell siblings seem to share into the purest apple green with the twitch of his slightly stubbled jaw.

"Margaery." He slowly eases himself into the nearest chair to the pavilion entrance, I had shifted mine in deep thought, laying his cane against his knee. A pre-cut pale pink rose, the same colour as his plump lips, that had been clenched in the hand holding the cane 

Her hand closed over the flower for a second as she looked off thoughtfully before the same predatory smile she gave Laryss came across her face. "Brother, can you not see I have a guest?"

"Oh, my apologies." He twisted the chair slightly more to his right to face me, despite it already being turned in my direction. "I am Willas, Margaery's eldest brother-"

"-My eldest brother and the future Lord of Highgarden." Margaery inputted, smirking at Willas' eye roll without looking in his direction.

He grasps my hand, placing a kiss on the back of my hand that was not slobbery and although I still don't like it, anything is better than Joffrey. "If you give me a moment, I can stand up and bow-"

"No, that's okay! Really, I'm fine!"

A few moments of awkwardness passed as Willas leant back in his chair and sipped at his water.

"Willas is an awe-inspiring breeder," Margaery broke the silence.

_WTF? I mean kinks exist but-_

"He breeds some of Westeros' finest horse, hound and hawk breeder. If not for his injury, Willas would have joined Loras and Garlan on their mad escapades. Perhaps this is fate's way of making sure he is the most suitable heir for Highgarden that has ever lived."

"My sister exaggerates." Another eye roll as he placed his goblet down. "I could have ended up being a knight but fate intervened. Mayhaps not fate but I bear no ill will to the man who made me this way."

"Can I ask what happened?"

"Oberyn Martell. I was too young to be in that kind of tournament and he knocked me off my horse too hard. Suffice to say, he won." "Since then, I've been studying the sciences as well as other subjects; ravenry, economics, mathematics, alchemy-"

"That's awesome! You're like Harry Potter! Except, you have good eyesight and no magic..."

A blush spread across Willas' cheeks.

_Seriously what is it with these people and blushing? It's not like I'm dressed like Margaery._

"Now I must be off. Brother, would you mind taking care of our guest?" To me, she said, "But before I depart, I want you to have this." From her left hand, she withdrew a diamond studded ring in the shape of a lily.

"I can't take this-"

"Of course you can. We're friends now, are we not? And friends give gifts. If it makes you feel better, I will trade you for your blanket. It will make a beautiful shawl." Bowing down next to me, she placed a light kiss on my cheek before departing quickly.

_Why couldn't you have moved that quickly towards the food?_

"Here, my lady, for you," Willas offered, jarring me out of my thoughts. From the nearest pillar, Willas withdrew a flower. A lavender rose, the colour as light as the air around us. The petals beneath my fingers were as soft as their colour.

"Thank you~" I smiled at the flower, smelling it deeply. I barely avoided pricking my fingers as I placed it in my lap to look up at him. "It was nice meeting you."

The blush on his face darkened rapidly. It happened so quickly, I have to wonder if he burst blood vessels doing it.

"Oh, I just remembered I have to see my father. I am dreadfully sorry to leave you alone." He pulled himself from his chair, nodded before hobbling away at a much slower pace than his sister.

As I laid my head on my arms to have a nap, I thought upon his behaviour. It was gentlemanly but it seemed forced. Almost like the members of a certain host club.

_Now all I need to do is break a vase in a club room... Well, at least he's not Tamaki._


	14. Idiot Abroad (Chapter 13)

"FUCK YEAH!"

I'm back in Tyrion's carriage and it's moving slightly so I slowly slink off my seat to kneel on the plush wine red rug embroidered with tiny gold diamonds in a constant pattern like a chess board on the floor.

Taking off my shoes, I dump them to the side of me and hoist my dress up. Withdrawing the two letters from their respective packages, I settle down. Unrolling the letter from Eddard first, I begin to read;

**_Y/N,_ **

**_If you have been sent by the Gods, I believe it may be the Old Gods rather than the Seven. Hopefully you have been sent to guide and protect my bloodline._ **

**_I fear for my children. My Sansa is a delicate flower. Arya is as wild as my house sigil._ **

**_Protect them if I can not._ **

**_The North Remembers._ **

_Brilliant. Everyone is vague and cryptic as fuck here._

Dropping Ned's to one side, I break the pretensious lion wax seal on his letter and read;

_**Dear Y/N,** _

_**As I have no doubt informed you, I have written to my father. I was loathe to do it but I had to have my say before Cersei had hers.** _

**_I have also written to my Aunt Genna, the lady of Casterly Rock, about you. If you are ever in need, the Westerlands will house you. However, my father may have other ideas._ **

_**Your friend,** _

**_T.L_ **

_Ah, yes. Initials. Because people don't know how to spell their own names._

As the click clack of the carriage wheels came to a halt, I put Tyrion's letter with Ned's and got onto my knees to open 'my' side of the carriage.

Beneath the carriage seat are multiple closed compartments and one open one. Inside is a pair of highly decorated pink rose themed shoes that match the colour scheme of my current outfit.

The only problem: The heel.

_This is going to suck._

A knock echoed from the carriage door, alerting me to someone else's presence.

I chuck the letters into the open compartment with my original shoes.

"Yeah?" I shout as I slide my feet into the shoes and stagger to a sitting position so I can be sat on the now covered luggage.

The door easily opens to reveal Sandor. Before I can say anything, he steps aside and reveals the ever smirking form of the devil incarnate; Joffrey.

"My lady," he greets. "May I escort you inside?"

I shrug, standing up and moving to the carriage door frame before realising how high the jump is. In these shoes I would break at least my ankle, not enough to dissuade Joffrey from sharing his 'delightful' company.

"Dog, help the lady down," Joffrey orders.

In his heavy, clunking armour he steps forwards, grasps me by the waist and gently sets me down onto the ground in one swoop.

"Thanks Sandor."

In reply, he simply bows his helmeted head and steps back behind Joffrey like a hulking shadow.

"Now my lady." Joffrey holds the crook of his arm out to me. "Shall we?"

Only now do I realise that Sansa and Arya weren't in the carriage like the last time I saw them.

Peering over my shoulder at the crowd behind us, I see the cart where the two girls are sat with a nun and Ned is on a horse in front of them. They're stopped by two figures in golden armour.

"Where are they going? Can I go with them?"

A cough comes from Joffrey's right side. When the brat prince turns to face the cause of the noise, it is not Dolores Umbridge but a spaghetti figured man in a simple yellow tunic with a black headscarf. Presenting a scroll to the boy, he bows and walks off with a simple, "Your Highness."

After reading the scroll, Joffrey sighs.

"Mother has requested my company. But before I forget...Here." From a loop on his belt, he pulled a dangling coin pouch, similar to the one Tyrion had given me, and placed it gently into the hand that was on his. Letting go of my arm, he takes my hand in his, laying a less wet kiss that is still as creepy as if he had put my hand in his mouth. "Until we meet again my lady!"

"Bye." I nod towards Sandor and watch them go.

_What should I do now?_

"Lady Y/N!"

* * *

"-and he's so small and warm but he'll get bigger soon! Thank you again for taking care of him!"

It had been Tommen who had called for me, obviously waiting for the dickhead to leave. He had hurried me through the Red Keep to sit outside the throne room for some unknown reason and was now thanking me for the minimal effort involved in caring for his cat, which he had plonked into my arms. Not that I'm arguing.

"No problem but you know, you have thanked me way too much right? All I did was look after your cat for a bit and got him sent here safe. No biggie."

The doors to the throne room slowly creaked open, alerting Tommen to other people's presence.

Taking the cat from me, he bows with it in his arms. "THANK YOU!" echoes down the corridor along with pattering of his feet as he speeds away.

I didn't bother getting up or looking at whoever had came by.

_Blend into the wall. Blend into the wall like Homer blended into the bush._

Finally breaking the silence, the voice of Petyr Baelish greets, "My lady, allow me." A hand is extended in my line of sight, just above my head.

Ignoring it, I push up from the ground and stand up. I remain looking at the wall opposite as the two Lords stay on my side.

"Now, Lord Stark, I believe we have _other_ matters to discuss-"

In an effort to interrupt what could turn into an awkward porno, I blurt out, "Ned we were going to go do that thing!" Grabbing onto Ned's sleeve, I tug at him until he begins to walk backwards with me. "Laters Bae."

When we're far enough away, I muttered loud enough to hear but not loud enough for it to be a stage-whisper that even Baelish down the other end of the hall would hear, "I'm sorry. But I'm not sorry for saving you from that wannabe Scooby Doo villain." Once we're around a corner, I ask, "Now, where do you want to go? Taco Bell, McDonalds, a buffet?"

* * *

_Damn. If the King is meant to be so rich, how come he can't afford paint or wallpaper?_

As it turns out, Ned had chosen none of those fun places. Instead, he had chosen for us to ascend the many, _many_ steps to the Tower of the Hand where Ned and his family would be living.

After stopping for breath a few - maybe more - times, we had finally reached the last ten steps.

"-The Hound does whatever the Prince tells him to do!" Arya shouted, accompanied by heavy thudding.

"You're an idiot!" Sansa rebutted, "If anything you should be upset with Y/N as well. She's _clearly_ evil!"

Rolling my eyes, I slowed my pace down so I trailed behind Ned.

"You're a liar and if you'd told the truth Micah would be alive!" With a final harsh thrust, she drove the dagger into the table.

"Enough!" The nun-like woman, dressed in a basic drab grey mumu with a slightly cleaner looking head wrap, looking like she belonged to  schools underfunded butt fuck of a performance of Sister Act,

"What's happening here?" Ned asked, seemingly oblivious to the arguing that had echoed down the stairs.

Definitely Not Julie Andrews answered, "Arya would rather act like a beast than a lady." The aforementioned girl smirked slightly, her eyes flicking to me then to the ground.

"Go to your room, we'll speak later." Arya's smirk dropped and without a sound, she turned on her heel and marched off further into the chambers.

Remaining in the shadows, I watched Ned's weight shift side to side. In his hands was a rectangle package I hadn't noticed before, too hungry to care.

"That's for you, love." The package is placed on the table and with a gentle push, sits in front of Sansa's abandoned meal. "It's made by the same doll maker who makes all of Princess Myrcella's toys... Don't you like it?"

_No she does fucking not. Look at her face! She looks like she licked salt, squeezed the lime and forgot the Tequila._

Delicately, with both hands, Sansa lifted the doll from it's packaging and turned it around slowly to reveal the ugliest doll I had ever seen.

_Don't make a face. Don't make a face. Don't laugh. Don't fucking laugh-_

"I haven't played with dolls since I was eight...but thank you Father... May I be excused?"

"But you've barely eaten a thing-" The nun protested.

"Alright. Run along."

Sansa stood from the table and hurried off in the same direction as her sister had left beforehand. Ned watched after her.

"War was easier than daughters."

**SLAM**

"Septa Mordane, please go attempt to comfort my daughter."

"She's only like that because of that Hound. It's the death of her direwolf that did it." An aimed glare at me was all it took before she rose and left.

"Now, did you get chance to read my letter, by any chance?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you received the gifts, including the locket?"

"Yes, sir."

"It's for safe passage. I-" _Should_ t _ake it back because I'm worse than Hitler for 'killing' Lady..._

A sigh falls from my lips and I feel an exhaustion befitting someone stupid enough to run for the train only to be too late to catch it. "Here. You might want to see this." Turning my phone on, I flick through my gallery pictures to find the most recent pictures; Shireen, Lady and I in a slight huddle. I turn it to face him.

"This is-"

"Me chilling with Shireen and her new dog. She's called her Visenya."

"My daughter can not know about this, you realise that, don't you?"

"Of course, I'm not a complete moron."

"If you'll excuse me, I must speak with a member of the small council." A nod of his head and I slump over onto the table, almost instantly passing out.

_Thank fuck that's over with._

* * *

"AND STAY OUT!"

_Waking up in another brothel... Why is this a trend for me?_

Staggering into the street from where I was shoved half awake out of the front door, I'm aware of the heat beating down upon me. If not for the amount of awnings and archways made of sandstone, it would possibly set me on fire.

The streets are paved with dust and hundreds of busy stalls climb the walls like ivy, elaborate fabrics swaying in an almost non-existent breeze that swirls the dust with the coin pouring from people's palms. It's loud but it makes everywhere else seem empty in comparison. People chatter, music plays and occasionally noises can be heard from the direction of the brothel and in the narrow alleyways.

One musician catches my eye, he's just finishing song but it's so soft and mellow in spite of the almost rave happening around him. So, I lean against someone's stall that sells the most amazing smelling fruit, and begin to watch.

"Thank you. Thank you, my next song is a ballad of love, longing and desperation. So, Harrina if you're out there... PLEASE TAKE ME BACK!"

Something brushes against me, if not for the small voice whispering, I would have thought the wind had picked up.

"Sorry miss."

I lift the skirt of my dress to have access to one of the money pouches in the hopes that I will be able to see 

_Those little shits._

"HEY!"

Spotting their receding figures, I drop my skirt back down and take after them at a steady hobble as my shoes slip and slide on the ornate stone.

* * *

After chasing the boys through the bazaar, almost losing them, I finally see them dive into a busy section of the bazaar, marked by an ornate arch with sun shaped carvings, filled with caravans, old buildings and stalls. Slamming open the door of one of the caravans, they hurry inside without looking behind them.

_This was way too easy._

Crossing across the bazaar is a hassle with these shoes but soon enough I make it to the caravan and climb up the steps to go in.

The inside of the caravan seems smaller than the outside if only because of the grey fabric stretched across the width of it behind a dwarf sits with parchment set before him and doodling on the paper.

"Drunkard, we're performin' Florian and Jonquil _then_ Wroth of the Dragonlords _then_ Garin's curse, you stupid harlot! Lay off the drink!" The dwarf shouts at someone beyond the slightly moth-eaten curtains draped from the ceiling concealing what lies beyond the small desk the man is sat at.

"Excuse me-"

"Who the _fuck_ are you? Nevermin', we've been needin' someone to help with the make up. Head through there and Drunkard will tell you what to do." Pausing in his writing, he puts down the quill to glare at me. "Look, girl, I'll pay you 10 silver Moons now, a possible twenty later if you do better." _Money_ w _ould definitely make this fun._ "What are you standin' aroun' here fo'? Shoo!"

Opening the curtain reveals a few metres extra of the caravan. Walls lined with shelves filled to the brim with jars, boxes and other items, it's obvious it's meant to be a kitchen of some kind.

Someone grunts behind me. Heavy footsteps move the figure into my line of sight until I see a staggering man, most likely Drunkard. "Did Bobono send ya?"

"Uh, yeah? I'm here to help with the make up-"

"Two caravans along. Go straight through that door behind us and ask for the Snapper."

A nod and a soundless thank you are all I leave him with in my haste to leave.

* * *

The journey through the caravans was needlessly perilous. The most danger I've been in since I got here because of these fucking shoes! Connecting each of the caravans was a thin piece of rope. Taking my shoes off would have been dangerous considering splinters, possible AIDs and the fact that modern medicine hasn't been infected and I would die from a splinter giving me syphilis which could turn my entire body into a pus factory like my face may have been once...

Opening the door to what must be the make-up caravan, I step inside and notice how much stuffier it is inside which distracts me enough from my thoughts of the horrors of puberty to nervously state, "Um... Bobono sent me for make-up."

An older guy too skinny to be Donald Trump but just as orange and fake harrumphs and shoulders past me to leave the way I came in.

"Fuck you too then..." I mutter.

"Izembaro does his own. Says it helps him get into the role. If you ask me, thats a load of horse shit," testified the only conscious women in the room. "I'm Lady Crane. Although, if you had applied to work here you would probably know that. Let me guess..."

As quick as a flash she swiped her leg and kicked something. From beneath the table, a bald dusty youth clambers out.

"YOU!"

"Oh, yous one of us, ain't ya? Sorry miss, here's your things back."

Also from beneath the table, the boy who hadn't spoken pulls himself out along with the leather leg frame that Tyrion had had made for me, along with the pouches of money and my phone.

"Here. Catch." A tug pulls the pouch Joffrey had given me off. A flick of my wrist sends it into the awaiting hands of the boys.

"THANK YOU!" They call as they run off, leaving the caravan like Izembaro had.

"Welcome to the Gate, new girl. If you need anythin', don't ask Lady Stork. By the time you need to ask her anything, she'll be too pissed to reply."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Do you know how to braid?" I nod. In reply, she takes her cyan bandana off and places it on the table, letting her raven locks fall free. "Get to work. You're being paid, might as well do something."

* * *

_This is a pretty easy job._

Occasionally she directs me but other than that we stay in complete silence, besides the slosh of her rum or the clink of her glass meeting the table or clashing against her teeth, or the heavy snoring of the woman passed out on the thin bench behind us.

"Bald cap's on the table."

"Slide the wig on carefully and then brush it into place."

"Use the big brush to get the red liquid. Swirl it, you get more."

In an attempt to break the silence, I inquire, "So are you staying here for more performances?"

"Nah, we've squeezed all the money we can out of Dorne without too many people noticing. We've attracted the attention of the Martells. We've gotta go."

"Crane, you're on." Bobono remained outside the door frame but threw a small bundle at me. "New girl, nice work. Here's your pay. Now go."

* * *

Sat outside in the midday sun, with lace shawls suspended over the tip of me, as I eat an apple I bought with two of the silver coins, I sigh happily. It's so peaceful and quiet and-

"Make way for Princess Arianne!"

"Greet her! It's Princess Arianne!"

_For fuck's sake!_

Coming through the stalls is a parade of people. Multiple men in turbans and fine fabric uniforms with swords at their hips march through the bazaar past stalls. Elevated behind them is a massive orange litter with a sun emblem on the front curtains on the back of an elephant.

"Hey! Clear the way in the old bazaar! Hey, you!" commands what must be the general as he swipes at a man who stands in front of the procession, causing him to scatter. "

"Come! Be the first to meet her eye!"

"Make way!" The general or captain commands again.

"Here she comes!" A child above me shrieks as they lean out of their window before being dragged back inside by their mother.

"Ring bells!"

"Bang the drums!"

An older woman nudges me in the ribs and croaks, "Oh, are you going to love this girl, foreigner!"

"When the fuck did you get this close to me?" But she's already gone into the crowd.

"Princess Ari, fabulous as she, Arianne of Dorne!"

The older woman nudges me again, harshly dictating as she forces me to kneel, "Genuflect, show some respect. Down on one knee!"

"Are you a fucking-" She just pushes harder on my back until I can hear something crack.

"Princess Arianne, mighty as she!

"But not as mighty as her brother!"

"Prince Quentyn, oh! I wish he would slip right in-"

"Strong as-"

"ENOUGH!" A commanding female voice echoes across the bazaar, halting everyone in their tracks.

The song ends and everyone disbands, acting as if nothing had happened.

One of the guards comes up to me. "Excuse me, miss. Her royal highness wishes to speak with you."

* * *

_God damn rich people._

I had been lead to a tent, the evry same palanquin that was on the back of the elephant. The floor was littered with a variety of sunset-hued pillows and lounging on those pillows was a very well dressed and beautiful woman.

"Come, sit with me." She patted a pillow she wasn't sprawled across. "I am Arianne Martell-"

"I got that, the Disney styled song explained it for me." I lowered myself onto the pillow and sat criss cross apple sauce.

"You did not join in?" Her left eyebrow raised, crinkling the perfectly drawn winged eyeliner.

"Nah. No offence but you lot need to think up your own songs or there could be real licensing issues."

Her mouth opens but before she can say anything, the tent's material flutters and a voice crows;

"SISTER!"

"Not now, Trystane. I have a guest."

Peering up at the guy who scrambles to sit next to me, I realise that the two truly are similar in gorgeous tan skin with raven hair and their face shapes.

"Are you employed?" Arianne inquires before popping a grape from a nearby dish into her mouth.

"Kinda, I did the hair and make-up of one of the actresses of the plays around the corner..."

An exaggerated gasp escapes Trystane. "I've seen that play! The one about Garin!"

"That's nice..."  _WTF else am I meant to say?_

"Come! Meet my Father! I'm sure he will allow you to stay!" Trystane grasped both of my hands in his, giving me the biggest puppy dog eyes that would rival even Sam Winchester's. "Your beautiful work would be a spectable amazed at in court, my lady!"

"Trystane," Arianne warned. "Father is a very...important man."

"No it's fine. Thank you. I just need to get back. See you later!" Wrenching my hands out of Trystane's, I curtsy without grasping my skirt and scurry off.

* * *

After making my way to the caravan I had worked in, I open the door and slip inside. Surprisingly, the older woman is still passed out.

I poke her in the cheek, waking her.

"Wha-"

"Uh... Do you mind if I pass out here?"

"Sure, but don't touch nothing." Then she's out like a light.

Swiping a bottle of mostly finished rum, I plop myself onto the ground, I settle myself against the wall to sleep. With the aid of the rum, it comes easy enough.

* * *

It stinks of horse shit. Not only that, it stinks of hot horse shit, as if it's been baking in the sun all day.

Laying in the dirt, a few pebbles poking me in the arse, I wonder if this is a metaphor for me hitting rock bottom.

I don't have much time to ponder on it because a slim figure appears into the crop circle.

Using the bamboo nearest me to stand up, I watch Daenerys, now dressed in leathers like the other Dothraki women, gaze at me in what could be confusion or just gas as her face slightly twitches and her head tilts to one side.

"What up Daenerys!" I greet as I dust myself off, finally standing straight.

The whinny of a horse from behind me catches Daenerys' attention and she fixes her gaze in that direction.

Out of the bushes, sword lofted in the air, cutting through the fauna, Viserys thunders towards us on his horse. Madness in his eyes, he roared,  _"_ You dare! You give commands to me? To  _me!_ You do not command the dragon-"

With a dramatic spin, he slid gracefully off of the brown horse and stormed towards Daenerys. Like a viper, he swiftly had her ensnared in his grip-

"GET THE FUCK OF OFF HER!"

Letting go of her neck, allowing Daenerys the chance to stumble back and draw deep breaths, Viserys spun on me with fire in his eyes.

"NO ONE-"

"Wakes the dragon. We get it. It's your thing. But dude, get a better catchphrase."

Suddenly, something dragged Viserys backwards away from me, revealing that people had come to look for Daenerys. Two women on the ground, one the colour of walnuts with straight black hair, the other a rich sepia with tight curls ranging from gold to chestnut pulled up high from her face, dressed in similar leathers to Daenerys stood on foot between the two men on horses; one older and pale, the other younger with darker skin. In his hand was a whip. The other end was curled around Viserys' neck. 

"Rakharo ask if you want him dead Khaleesi," translated the woman with the long black hair.

"No!"

Viserys lay whimpering on the floor, hands wrenching at the cord around his neck as he squirmed.

"Rakharo says you should take ear to teach respect," she translated once more.

"Oh no, they're going to kill the violent white dude who is a dick." Rolling my eyes, I inspect the dirt under my nails as I speak. "What a shame."

Daenerys begs, "Please. Please don't hurt him." Rhakaro's eyes flick to me. "Don't hurt her either! She's my friend!"

The older white guy watched the scene with tired eyes, as if already used to Viserys' actions and the response. I hadn't noticed before but at his side was a beautiful white horse, almost the same shade as Daenerys' hair but purer.

"Tell him..." Daenerys hesitated, twisting her hand in the material of her trousers before she continued, "Tell him I don't want my brother harmed."

It was probably translated well without too much sass because with a light tug, Viserys was released. In response, he turned over, slipping free of the whip and flopping about like a fish as he gasped for breath.

As soon as he had gained his breath back, he pushed himself onto all fours and shrieked, "MORMONT! KILL THESE DOTHRAKI DOGS!"

The older white guy, presumably Mormont who I know recognise from Daenerys' wedding, ignored him in favour of his sister. "Shall we return to the khalasar, Khaleesi?"

The other one, during all the commotion has moved up behind me. "Friend of Khaleesi, let me help you. I am Jhiqui."

"HOLY - Thanks?" Tightly, she holds my legs and helps hoist me up onto the large animal, letting me curl my legs around the animal with my hands in the mane.

_Now I know what it must be like for Levi to get on his horse without using 3DMG._

Settled in my seat, I thank Jhiqui once more and watch over my shoulder as Viserys slowly staggers to his feet.

Outrage evident on his face, Viserys headed for his own horse. He was stopped by the horse being jerked forwards out of reach,

"Uh uh uh. You." Rahkaro jutted his chin out in Viserys's direction before facing forwards once more. "Walk."

Jhiqui stepped away, head bowed, as Rakharo began to slowly ride forwards, pulling the horse I'm on along with him.

Once we're far enough from where Viserys stood, I lean forwards shakily on my horse and whisper, "Am not going to lie, dude, you are my fucking hero."

* * *

We had been riding for an hour and the heat wasn't getting to me as badly as it could have been. Sure, I had to slip my shoes off and put them in a leather pouch on the side of the horse but overall I wasn't-  _Who am I kidding, this is awful! My vagina is sweating so badly it has become a swamp, I am leaking everywhere else, I can hardly breathe, this horse back is beating my legs so hard my cooch is gonna be bruised internally and I feel really, really sticky._

_At least I'm being taught some Dothraki. That's kind of fun..._

" _Kafat_. To smash."

"Yes, friend of Khaleesi. Good."

.. _.In the sense that it is one step up from playing I spy for an hour._

"Can you teach me swear words? Please?" I beg, hoping for a change of pace.

Before Jhiqui can answer, an older voice with a more posh English accent interjects, "Friend of the Khaleesi, that is not appropriate."

"Oh! You're George or something right?"

As he guides his horse closer, I watch the wrinkles around his eyes shift with each bounce of his horse and the flicking of his eyes to watch Daenerys' back as she rides silently just before us. "I am Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. I serve the Targ-"

"You got those books for Daenerys on her wedding day, right? Could you get a book on this for me? Please? It would be cool to thank people for not murdering me."

"Friend of the Khaleesi-"

"Y/N."

"-The Dothraki have no word for thank you," Jorah answered for her.

I shrug before inquiring once more, "So... Jorah the Explorer, would it be possible to get a book anytime soon?"

"I will look for one. The Khaleesi would benefit from her companion sharing her learning struggles."

"Thank you."

"Now friend of Khaleesi, try this..." Her voice blurs as my mind beings to boil under the heat of the sun and I watch as the ground rises up to greet me just before everything goes dark.


	15. Fake Dick and Gay Phistor (Chapter 14)

_It's fucking freezing. I swear to God my nips are going to turn into icicles at this rate. Won't even need a fucking taser, just poke their eyes out-_

"-Must say I received a slightly warmer welcome on my last visit."

I can hear the suaveness in the tone and recognise it as Tyrion's coming from behind the door to my right.

Slipping into the room by opening the door just enough to slide through, I choose to sit on the long bench nearest the door to avoid attention, allowing myself to put my legs under me so I can huddle for warmth.

Robb keeps his eyes on Tyrion. "Any man of the night's watch is welcome at Winterfell."

"Any man of the night's watch?" Tyrion echoes before inquiring, "But not I, eh boy?"

 "I'm not your boy Lannister. I'm Lord of Winterfell whilst my father is away."

_Yes, because every man bringing their parents into an argument doesn't immediately lose all cool points. Still, at least it's not "My father will hear about this."_

"You might learn a Lord's courtesy," Tyrion commented coolly.

Behind Tyrion, the door creaks open and everyone's eyes turn to observe the newcomer.

"So it's true..." Tyrion's whisper broke the silence between the giant's clomping.

In the arms of a giant, laid young Bran Stark as limp as a doll, yet more awake than I had last heard he had been. Following the pair was robb's friend who's name I can't quite remember.

"Hello Bran," Tyrion greeted. "Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"He has no memory of that day," stated the old man with snow white hair. Judging by his stout figure and elaborate hair, he was not the fairest of them all.

"Curious," Tyrion muttered, barely heard if not for how quiet it was in the room.

"Why are you here?"

Tyrion ignored Robb's question and asked Bran, "Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel. My neck is beginning to hurt."

"Kneel Hodor," the boy simply commanded.

"Do you like to ride Bran?"

"Yes." Bran looks thoughtful before he solemnly continues, "Well, I mean I did like to."

"The boy has lost the use of his legs."

"No shit, Sherlock," I mutter.

Apparently this is enough to catch Tyrion's attention as he smiles at me slightly before"What of it? With the right horse and saddle even a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple."

"Then I'm not a dwarf. My father will rejoice to hear it!"

I snort into my goblet of wine. Covering it with a cough, I slip out of my seat and slowly walk over to Bran.

From his cloak, Tyrion withdrew a scroll and passed it to Bran. "I have a gift for you. Give that to your saddler and he'll provide the rest."

"You must shape the horse to the rider..." Tyrion began a speech which I didn't pay much attention to, favouring the blueprint.

At Bran's left side, I could see the designs clearer. The designs were clearly for a saddle, as Tyrion had said, with no words or typicalities of a modern blueprint. Bran angled it towards me, looking up at me for a second before returning his gaze to the paper.

"Will I really be able to ride?" He looks so hopeful it almost hurts.

"You will. On horseback, you'll be as tall as any of them," Tyrion replies.

"Is this some kind of trick? Why do you want to help him?"

_For fuck's sake Robb._

"I have a tender spot for cripples-" Bran rolls the paper back up, puts it back into his lap and lifts his head to meet Tyrion's eyes. "-Bastards and broken things."

"You've done my brother a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours-"

"Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark. There I'll find a bed and both of us can sleep easier." Turning to me, he takes my hand. "My lady, it was a pleasure seeing you once more." Laying a kiss on the back of my gloved hand, he bows his head quickly before releasing me and leaving.

"Y/N, a word. Please."

* * *

Robb had brought me to the room I had been taken to the first time I fell asleep in Winterfell.

"You wanted to see me?"

Robb closed the door and sat down on the bed covers next to me. "When did you get- You're not wearing a cloak."

"No, didn't need one just now when I was in Essos."

"Here." Robb took off his and draped it over my shoulders.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

* * *

As it turned out, quite a fucking lot.

Apparently, Bran had always been a nimble ninja and was climbing about the tower before he fell. For some reason, he had fallen and become as useful as Buzzfeed. Catelyn had become convinced using real CSI techniques (finding a single long blonde hair) that it was the Lannisters.

"Why are you telling me this? I could turn around to anybody and betray you if I wanted to."

"Do you want to?"

"...No."

"There you go then. But the point is, this could bring about a war."

"Are you ready for a war?"

He didn't answer me. Robb simply planted a kiss upon my hair, took back his offered cloak and walked out of the room, leaving me to climb under the covers and fall asleep.

* * *

"What's a woman doing here?" Someone is shouting and my head hurts like I've been skull fucked with the only lube being the opposite of liquid luck. "Do you have a death wish? Or perhaps you wished to be raped-"

"Fuck. Off," I grunt out rubbing my eyes to sit up properly.

There's a man in my line of vision and an older one just on the corner of it. Both dressed in black, yet there's no casket.

"How dare-" As the man closest me raised his hand, I braced myself but didn't look away.

"Thorne," a new voice interrupted, a warning evident in his tone. "Don't you have recruits to train?"

Huffing, the man backed away from me and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Now, tell me exactly how you managed to get here."

* * *

After what felt like forever, explaining the relevant information to him (with minimal ad-libs), The man was introduced as Jeor Mormont; the Lord Commander.

He had sent someone off a while ago, the old man from earlier (there's too many old men here) to fetch some clothes.

When the old man returned at the end of our discussion, he had simply hobbled over and passed them to me with a kind smile. "Here, these should be your size. You can change in here, we'll be outside."

Once they were gone, I looked at the pile of clothes I had been given (trousers, a shirt, an under shirt, a pair of boots that would probably be too large and a thick cloak with heavy feathers at the top, all in black. The only things unusual about the outfit were the thick piece of something down the front of the trousers and the long bandage I would need to use to bind myself with). Shakily, I slip out of my clothes and into the new clothes. I was almost ready to participate in Project Mulan.

Albeit the name needs work. A lot of work.

I called the men back into the room.

"Now, we shall go introduce you to the others, as we agreed upon. But first, you need to look more like a man."

* * *

"OI! LISTEN UP YOU LOUSY LOT!" Roared Asslier - _Take that you lily livered lardass_ \- over the noise of the crowded dining hall. "WE HAVE A PONCY PRICK FROM THE CAPITAL-"

"That is enough Alliser." Jeor Mormont interrupted, pushing me by the shoulder to stand before him. "Now this is..."

 _Think, Y/N, think. Think manliness. Think with your non -existent penis..._ "Dick. Dick Bangkok."  _Because I really need to overcompensate._

Clearly regretting not just leaving me to either freeze my tits off in the snow, Jeor bit back a sigh and hesitantly agreed,  _"_...Yes. He is-"

"-An inspector."

"What are you inspecting?" Some chucklefuck shouts out at me.

"You lot," I answer simply.

Either satisfied with my answer or just wanting to eat, no more questions were asked. Instead a bowl was shoved under my nose.

"Oi, inspector. Here."

"What is this?"

"Stew. Mystery meat."  _Welp, vegans would be fucked here._

"Yum. Thanks..." Taking the bowl, I walk off to sit at the back of the hall on benches facing out into the crowd.

In the bowl is the slimiest looking slop I've ever seen, like phlegm but drained of life. Swimming around in the soup are various mismatched lumps in a variety of grey shades. Picking the spoon up, I dip it in and withdraw a small bit of it without any lumps and draw it to my lips anxiously. Slowly, I swallow it down, squeezing my eyes together to prepare for the white light and the views of dead ancestors.

They didn't come.

Instead it was like eating what must be the epitome of blow-jobs; salty, unsatisfying and yet apparently important enough to finish everyone involved.

Re-opening my eyes, I realised two people had joined me at the table.

Apparently the man who had given me the bowl had followed me because he had plonked himself down next to me, in a shadowed corner of the room and for some fucking reason, he had brought a friend.

The guy from before took a moment from shovelling food down his throat to introduce him and his friend. "I'm Eddison, this is Samwell."

"Nice to meet you, Sam, Edd. I'm Dick."

"I-Is that you're real name?"

"I can say it with a straight face, can't I?"

"So why did they send an inspector. Why not just send a raven? There's not much to talk about," Sam inquired.

"I have to report to the Capital about your resources and other shit-"

"Well I think you're talking shit." Apparently this conversation had become a free for all because another greasy fucker had slunk in and sat on the edge of the opposite bench. "You're probably just another Lord's bastard son sent here with plans of running away - another mistake-"

"The only mistake here is that your mother didn't swallow."

The guy scoffed, revealing how troll like he looked, almost as troll like as the sort of guys that live in their parents basement and spam the comment sections. "Really? You sure the mistake isn't that your mother-"

Pointing my spoon at him, I protested, "Look here dickhead, if I wanted my comeback I would have wiped it off of your mother's chin. Now, fuck off out of my face."

Huffing, the guy got up and disappeared into the depths of the Goth canteen.

No matter how many times I stirred the contents of the bowl around, I wasn't anymore hungry. With a sigh, I pushed the bowl away from me and stood up before announcing to the two, "I'm gonna get some air. You can finish mine if you want."

Without waiting for a reply, I left out of the nearby door.

* * *

_God I wish I could put my hands between my tits right now or even just drop them into my trousers or armpits but if I knock the binding or the codpiece I will be-_

Something butts into my leg. Dropping my gaze, I barely spot the fur that blends into it's surroundings, the blood red eyes vibrant in stark contrast.

I snort.

_Stark. I'm so clever._

"Hey Ghost~" Kneeling down in the snow, I encircle my arms around his neck and nuzzle my face into his fur, comforted by his warmth.

"Sorry he doesn't normally act like that to strangers."

I snort once more, this time in indignation, still stroking the dog. "I'm a stranger now, am I? I mean the cross dressing is good but I didn't think it would be that good."

"Y/N?"

The smirk I felt appear on my face quickly melts off as he sweeps me into a giant hug, pulling me to my feet, placing my head in the crook of his neck and his chin on the top of my head.

After what feels like only moments, he holds me gently by my cheeks and locks gazes with me before admitting seriously, "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Shrugging without moving out of his hold, I reply nonchalantly, "Well, remember, I did make a promise to appear in your bed one day. Still got to live that particular promise out. Going to great lengths to ensure I can such as the _fucking spectacular_ dress up."

"Your man voice is a bit well..."

"It's fucking shit, isn't it?"

Jon bites his lip, but his lips still quiver and his shoulder shake. Somehow, he manages to choke out, "Yeah..."

With a slight huff, I shrug myself deeper into the borrowed furs. "You might as well go inside now. It's getting dark and I still have to report."

"You have to go already?" His smile drops and suddenly I'm drawn to the lack of crinkles around his wet, red-rimmed eyes. _Had he been crying on me? No wonder my hair felt slightly wet - I thought it was just snow._  

_Heh, Snow. Well done._

"Eh, mystery business calls. Besides, it's not like it's forever. Just until the universe or whatever mystical energy moves me around, decides you're relevant to my plot..."

"What?"

"Never mind." A quick peek around shows that we're in the all clear and I peck Jon's cheek, ruffle the fur on Ghost's head and straighten Jon's cloak before finally leaving his hold to go in the opposite direction with a final call over my shoulder, "Nice seeing you Jon."

* * *

"On the count of three... Three." With that he ripped the thing off my face and dumped it on the desk.

"OW!" Clutching at my surely skinned face, I moaned, "This was a terrible idea. Next time I have to disguise myself, I'd rather just grow a moustache or stick pubes to my face... Actually no I would not but the point is that _that_ fucking hurt."

"Mm." No sympathy, whastoever. "Now why did you choose your alias to be Dick Bangkok?"

"It was that or Gay Phistor."

No more could be said so Jeor changed the topic; "Now, you're going to need somewhere to sleep."

"It's cool. I have worked out that if I drink enough of your world's alcohol, I will pass out. Probably because there's nothing here to keep me awake at 3AM like Jägerbomb. But first, I need a piss."

* * *

After being taken to ye olde outhouse, which was basically a hole in the ground, it was pretty dark. By pretty dark, it was so dark that I have tripped on my own feet and laid sprawled face first into the snow for so long my I have lost feeling in my face.

Using a nearby fence to pull myself up on baby Bambi legs, I barely registered the blunt object that came towards me and knocked me back."

"D-Dick!" Dropping the sword he had just hit me with the handle of, Sam rushed to my side and helped me up again. "What are you doing out this late?"

"Hunting for underwear models, what's it look like?" Rubbing my jaw with my gloved hand, I inquired, "Why, what are you doing?"

"I'm practising my sword play."

"Practising?"

"It's not going very well," Sam confessed. _No shit, Sherlock._

"Okay..." _Be nice, be nice. There's a Sam in every fandom and they're typically useful._ "Teach me."

"W-What?"

"Teach me because you learn more from teaching then you do from just doing. Plus, I always wanted to wave a sword about for a bit."

"A-Alright," he agreed reluctantly. "Pick up that other training sword."

* * *

Hours later, I could honestly say that I coouldn't disarm or kill a man but I could at least tap him on the shoulder gently and with good form.

But I was getting bored of doing the same move over and over again of being tapped on the shoulder and told to slide out of the way and hit Sam on the shoulder lightly or on his waist.

Leaning against my sword as if I was part of the bad-ass adventurers, I sighed before stating, "Sam, I am not teaching you but you need to learn that fighting is not just the glamour of Monty Python, it's also got the same dirtiness to it as any nightclub toilet."

"Dirt- OW!"

"Oh fuck, are you okay?" Helping him up, leaving the swords in the snow, I began to panic. "I didn't mean to kick you in the dick that hard."

"I-I think that's enough for today."

So I headed back to Jeor's office, laid down and passed out on the floor from exhaustian and a head wound.


	16. Let's Have Some Fun, This Beat Is Sick (Chapter 15)

_It's the middle of the day and I'm sweating like a pig in these furs._

I'm sprawled out on the ground and all around me are barely clothed men, women and children performing their daily duties, surrounded by horses. As I stand up, I weigh up the odds that if I ask they will speak my language and not kill me.

"What happened to the skulls?" A woman's voice asks, but no one gets time to answer as I pull the tent flap high enough for me to step through.

_Decision made, she speaks my language. I'll just ask for directions and be on my way. Can't be worse than being in a whorehouse. May be worse than a slaughterhouse._

"Ay, yo, do you know where I can find- OH FUCK!" Clapping my hand onto my eyes, I attempt to step backwards but knowing there's candles all around me. "I will come back later."

"You, stay." I peeked through my fingers to see Viserys had twisted his body to look at me. Without casting a glance at the other girl still riding his disco stick, he commanded, "You, out."

Sickeningly sweet, finally stopping the bouncing of her tits by sitting back in the water, she appealed, "Your grace, let's not let the girl ruin-"

"OUT!" He roars, causing the poor girl to trip out of the bath and scamper outside starkers.

"Dude, I can come back later-"

Viserys simply sighed and twisted his body back around. He soon sank deeper into the water, allowing me to edge closer to the tub, letting the tent opening close behind me.

"Also who the fuck is talking about death when they're getting it on. I mean you're weird but necrophilia is pushing it, even for this fucking place."

"I'm not getting into the fucking bath with you.

"Just get in," Viserys insisted before he whispered, "Please."

 _I am sweating like a pig and my hair_ is _getting a bit greasy and knotted. Plus,_

"Turn around!" 

He didn't. Instead, he let his violet eyes close slowly and titled his head to the ceiling of the tent.

I stripped of, taking my leg brace off and leaving it with the pile of clothes and tying the purse to my non-dominant wrist.

Grumbling, I got into the bath. "Fucking touch me, I will fuck you up." Knees to my chins, I sit in one end of the tub whilst Viserys lounges at the other, remaining in the same position he had been in as I had entered the tent.

At least the water is milky enough to hide my body underneath so I slide my legs out further and quickly duck my torso under the water until it comes up to my shoulders.

In an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence, I said, "So...You were talking about?"

Viserys opened his eyes which quickly dilated at the sight of my bare shoulders. Taking a shaky breath as his nostrils flared, Viserys closed his eyes briefly again before he calmly informed me, "My family's dragons. Their skulls used to line the throne room from my father's throne and down the corridor."

"Stupid question but what the fuck? Why did you have dragons?"

"A long time ago..."

"I meant like a short story kind of like how people choose to buy lions but okay, history lesson."

"A long time ago, the Targaryens were simple goat herders in the Valyrian Penisula in Old Valyria but everything changed when-"

"The fire nation attacked!"

"-my ancestors found dragons in the mountains. Through trial and error, they tamed the dragons. Not completely otherwise they would have been useless but enough to obey them. Due to an unknown reason, possibly magic or their proximity with the dragons, their physical appearance changed to the silvery white hair and violet eyes I have, made our dominant trait due to incest-"

"Okay! That's enough of that," I interrupt. 

"My history is all I have left of my family and so it means a lot to me."

"Do you remember them as well?"

Viserys tensed, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "I am the only one who remembers my family as they were. I remember my brother Rhaegar most. He was always singing, the people loved it. Rhaegar used to take me to the far corners of the Capital and sit me beside him as he played the harp and sang. His face has begun to fade but that voice... Then again, I also remember the clashing of swords." A small smile creeps up his face, the fondness of the memory evident despite the small crack in his voice. "Most days, he and I would venture down to the training yard and I would watch him dance around with his sword. He began to teach me to fight like him before the knights took over. If I hadn't known Rhaegar bled on the battlefield that day, heard people all over crow at the Usurper's victory, I would have always believed his lifeblood was the music he was so fond of."

"You must have loved him greatly," I acknowledged softly.

"I did. Rhaegar spent the most time with me, even more time than any Septa or wet nurse I ever had."

"What about your mother?"

"She wasn't as... involved in my upbringing. As I said, we had wet nurses and other people to do that." His tone became thoughtful and he began to look far away as he admitted, "I suppose, even if she had wanted to, she couldn't."

"Why?"

"You know, I can't really remember." "I think it was something to do with my Father... Regardless, when she died during the storm that brought Dany into the world, all I had left of the great Targaryen dynasty, a dynasty meant to last until the end of time as the superior rulers, chosen by the Gods, all I had left... was my mother's crown jewels that she had managed to smuggle out and a screaming, hungry babe."

"Where are they now?"

"The jewels? Gone."

"I'm sorry."

"It's... I remember every detail of the man's face who I sold them to." "In that moment that I handed them over, I felt so much rage. I was angry at my Mother for not living, I was angry at my sister _for_ living but all I could think about was that if it had been Rhaegar, he wouldn't have had to sell them..." Viserys trailed off and clutched me tighter.

As my hair became damper, I simply curled into his chest and allowed him to hold onto me as tightly as he needed. Closing my eyes, I laid still against his chest and

Still naked.

* * *

"Oh, I wasn't expecting to still be dressing women for the tourney."

I was woken up as a breeze flicked over my body, alerting me to the fact that I was dry now but not clothed. Blinking awake, I realised I was propped up on a pile of pillows on a carpet.

"You didn't pay beforehand, especially considering you already disrobed, you will have to pay 150 dragons."

"Um... What?"

"You must be the new lady of the court; Y/N L/N, yes?" I nodded."I understand that you're foreign. Never mind, show me your purse."

After she inspected the gold coins, she raised an eyebrow but made no further comment. She simply slid the money into two messy piles - one significantly larger than the other.

When she scooped up the smaller pile, I put the remaining coins back in the purse.

"Now come, let us find you something more... desirable."

* * *

As it turned out, the woman's name was Doraria and not pronounced as Durarara as I had tried at first. She had pinched me on the upper forearm when I called her Dora.

After an hour of searching, Doraria had clothed me in a simple pale pink flowy gown with a simple gold flexible band above the hips accessorised with low heeled shoe and jewellery with gold; a ring, a necklace with a small crystal at the end and a pair of pearl-like earrings.

I was sat down on a carpet on the floor in front of her as she brushed my hair out for me.

Once again, cast into awkward silence, I inquired, "Why pink?"

"Apparently, the word is that the colour of the Queen's flowers are to be pink."

"The Queen?"

"The Queen of Love and Beauty; the woman's prize. The champion of the tournament may choose any woman to be his Queen of Love and Beauty, dedicating his victory to her."

The soft thud of the hairbrush being dropped on the floor alerted me to her missing presence behind me so I stood up.

Holding my shoulders,

"Perfect, you're done. Good luck." Placing a simple hand fan, also in pink, in my hand, she sent me on my way.

* * *

If I couldn't have spotted the King's tent would have been the most opulent and the largest tent, also conveniently near the grounds and the wine barrels, I would have been able to spot him from Robert's barking.

A lanky boy dressed in pale red rushes past me as I step into the tent to the most unappealing sight. With his hairy stomach flopped out, it's clear the King doesn't just have a muffin top but he has an entire cake shelf.

_No wonder the kid was in a hurry._

"The breastplate stretcher?" Ned comments.

"How long before he figures it out?" Robert grins, cracking his stony expression.

"Maybe you should have one invented," Ned quips before beginning to snigger. With mirth in his voice, Ned spares only a glimpse to me before he asks, "Should we get a second opinion, Y/N? Do you agree?"

Without waiting for me to answer, Robert fills another glass and holds it out for me to take. "Take the drink girl."

As I take the drink, I watch Ned still continuing to snigger, probably the happiest I've seen him ever.

"Alright, alright. But you watch me out there." Robert, using his glass, points to the tent flap. "I still know how to point a lance."

"You've no business jousting. Leave that to the young men."

"Why? Because I'm King?" Robert took another swig of his wine before announcing,"Piss on that! I want to hit somebody!"

Still drinking my wine, I lean against the table to watch the possible kick off, wishing for pop corn.

"Who's going to hit you back?" Ned inquires.

"Anybody who can! And the last man in his saddle would be-"

"-You," Ned states simply. "There's not a man in the Seven Kingdoms who would risk hurting you."

_No but there are probably a few women._

"Sorry Bobby B but I gotta agree with Neddy here," I add. Placing my wine glass down gently, I push away from the table, almost staggering in the heeled shoes. Ned grabs me by the shoulder to steady me, letting go when I'm settled. "Cheers Ned. But, you're King, anyone stupid enough to hit you would wind up dead."

"So you two are saying that all of those cowards would let me win."

"Aye."

"Pretty much."

Robert with disappointment on his face, shakes his head in disbelief and fills up his wine glass, an empty glass and mine with the tiny gold pitcher. I take mine and Robert holds the other glass, the one he doesn't intend for himself, and holds it out to Ned with a simple command; "Drink."

"No, I'm not thirsty."

"Drink," Robert insists, his arm jutting forwards. "Your king commands it."

Ned finally agrees and begins to gulp down his wine at about the same pace as I am. Pre-gaming at it's finest.

Robert plops himself down on the fur covered seat opposite us. "Too fat for my armour.

"Your squire? The Lannister boy?" Ned starts.

_I'm not here for plot details and my head's a bit fuzzy so I'm just going to drink more wine. Yes. Good idea Y/N._

"Enough of this." Robert stands back up a minute later, drawing my attention as he places his glass back onto the tray. "Let's go watch 'em ride. At least I can smell someone else's blood." He began to storm out of the tent.

"Robert," Ned and I cautioned, just as Robert reached the entrance.

"What?" He turns back around.

I don't have to say anything, simply watch Ned look Robert up and down. Once Robert clocks on, he laughs.

"An inspiring sight for the people!" I hear behind me as I put my own glass back on the tray."Come, bow before your King! Bow you shits!"

"Well I will leave you two to dress and braid each others hair, I am off to go find a seat." Clapping Ned on the shoulder, I walk out of the tent but not before doing a wobbly curtsy.

* * *

_Food tent. Food tent. Where are you, I'm going to starve. Where the fuck is the- Oh hello._

In a dark corner, between two of the large but not very expensive looking tents, stand two very juxtaposing characters. On the left, clutching a piece of parchment and a quill is Petyr Baelish, dressed in a dark brown robe with his signature silver bird pin on his chest. On the right is a woman I've never met before. Her hair is cloud-like, tight curls blossoming from her head and pushed back from her face and held their by a delicate gold head piece dangling an emerald on her forehead, contrasting with her flawless umber skin and dark eyeliner, smudged neatly around her sandalwood eyes. Dressed in an emerald cold shoulder dress that hugs her figure whilst keeping her modest, her entire being screams authority at me, as if the King I had spoken to before was nothing in the face of this queen.

"Baelish," I acknowledge him before turning to the other woman and extending a hand. "I don't believe we've met, I'm-"

"Y/N L/N, the pretty young thing who's name is on everyones lips. Yes, I've heard of you." Her voice is smooth and direct as she speaks, a contrast yet again to Baelish's all over the place accent. She lightly takes my hand, squeezes it firmly before letting it drop back to my side. "I am Chataya."

"So... What are you doing?"

"Would you be interested in a small bet?" Baelish offered.

"Alright, I'll join you. I'll put money on Sandor Clegane that he wins all of his events."

"Then, shall we say 50 gold dragons?" Chataya bargained, looking at the piece of parchment Baelish is writing down upon.

"I'll raise you to-"

"Y/N, no," Ned is suddenly next to me, taking the purse away.

"Y/N YES!" I exclaim, taking the purse back from his slack grip. "I'll raise you to 75 gold dragons!"

"If you're so confident, my lady, I will raise you 100 gold dragons."

"DEAL!" I hand over the money.

"Then that shall be all. Good day, my lady." Chataya and Petyr barely move, inclining their bodies more towards each other and it's a good enough signal to turn around and leave.

Ned extends his arm and begins to lead me back to the jousting grounds.

"What were you doing gambling?"

"No offense, but you're not my Dad."

Ned looks like he has more to say before he simply states, "Nevermind. Hurry along and go sit with my daughters, I have business to attend to." With that said, he turns and walks back to the castle, leaving me to go find his daughters.

* * *

Getting to where Sansa and Arya sit is tough, navigating though the thick crowd gathered along the sides of the track. So in an attempt to hurry, I lift my skirts and elbow through the crowd towards where there is the least foot traffic (negating the servants carrying food who I slip a small bundle from). Climbing up the side of the lifted box for the royal family, I slip underneath the rope and roll onto my back, before standing back up.

Nobody seems to have noticed me yet so I slide over to Sandor, the clicking of my heels causing him to look at me.

"Good luck in the joust. I'm betting on you to win." _Literally._

With that said, I hurry past him and Joffrey, hurdling over the barrier that connects the 'Still Higher Class Than Peasants But Not Enough To Stop The King's Wine Supply Line." I land roughly on the steps, almost sprawling before I gain my balance and hurriedly step over to th bench behind the

"Excuse me, Lord Baelish. You're in my spot."

The four in front of me, turn to me with a mix of expressions. Arya seems pleased and  Sansa and Baelish - pissed. Yet Sansa is the only one who asks, "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Sansa," the Septa hissed.

"Your dad told me to come here."

"Start the damn joust before I piss myself!" Robert, charming as always, crows behind us.

Stepping over the bench, I squeeze myself between Baelish and Sansa with a smug grin in his direction and settle down to watch the joust.

"Yes, yes, enough of the bloody pomp. Have at it!" Robert roared.

A horn is blown and the two ride their horses to opposing ends. After being given their lances and shields, they charge down their respective lanes, pointing the lance across their body and aiming at the other person.

Not knocking each other off, they get to the end of their lanes and charge at each other once more.

Only this time, a blur of motion happens and a spray of wood comes from the end of the Mountain's lance and Ser Hugh is sent careening off his horse.

As Sansa's mouth opens to scream, I grasp onto her and pull her towards me, forcing her to not look at the body that falls onto the ground in a heap before us.

I can't move beyond my hold on Sansa, my eyes locked onto the body off Ser Hugh and the lump of wood in his throat coated in the steady pool of blood forming on his shiny metal armour as his neck wound spurts. Blood bubbles in his throat, flowing out of his mouth and soon he is still.

Two unremarkable men hurry along and drag the body away, leaving a trail of blood behind.

Once what used to be Ser Hugh is gone from sight, I let go of Sansa and allow her to sink back into her place.

"Not what you were expecting?" Petyr asked, clearly intending for the shaken Sansa to answer.

"I've seen worse, Lord Baelish," I inform him calmly. Even if I hadn't seen Saw or any horror films, the body of the guy that died in place of Lady still flickered before my eyes.

Scowling, he turned back and faced the same spot of blood everyone was focused upon.

"Is that the end of the tournament then?" I ask, hoping the answer is yes so I can go to a feast or watch something more entertaining.

It's Baelish's turn to be smug this time, smirking as he informs me, "Oh no, my lady. We still have hours of entertainment ahead of us."

I audibly groan, tilting my head back and wait for sleep to come.


	17. No More Disney. No More Law Suits. (Chapter 16)

In the end, sleep did not decide to come along because it is a stupid inconvenient cunt. I'm starving and the only thing I've eaten in what must be days is that bite of stew so I set off from my seat in search of food.

Apparently I had gained a stalker because out of the corner of my eye I saw the fast movement of the same person as they ducked behind things.

"Y/N!" Suddenly, I have an armful of Arya who had flung herself at me and wrapped herself tight.

"Arya?"

"I knew you didn't do it." Her voice is muffled in my skirt.

"Do...what?" I inquire hesitantly.

"Kill Lady."

Nervously, I whip my head around to make sure no one heard before I ask, "What are you talking about?"

"I overheard you and Father and-"

"Arya, listen to me." I grasp her shoulders and look her square in the eyes. "Promise me you won't tell anyone, not even Sansa."

"I-I promise."

I smile gently and let go of her shoulder, choosing to walk beside her, "So who taught you how to sneak like that?"

"Syrio Forel is teaching me to water dance," Arya began before she told a story of knights, valour and Braavos. Walking side by side, I had never felt more relaxed in my life and I hoped this joyful frolicking-

"Lady Y/N!"

Moment ruined.

"Your grace."

"Oh, it's you."

"Ah, Arya, you have your dancing lesson, remember?"

She simply nodded, hugged me tight once more, shot a glare at Joffrey and the Hound before scurrying off.

I watched her disappear into the crowd before turning back to realise Joffrey was still talking.

"-By the way, my lady, jumping that length of rope earlier in those shoes was quite a feat. You would make a remarkable hunter on foot."

"Thanks... Oh yeah, good luck in the joust, Sandor."

Sandor didn't reply, instead he just stared off into the distance as if he hadn't heard me.

A vein in Joffrey's forehead began to tick as the seconds passed and no one talked. People were beginning to stop and stare before Joffrey snapped, "Well, dog? Aren't you going to thank her?"

"Thank you..." Sandor grunted out.

"Your grace, I'm honoured but I was wondering if I may speak with the Hound alone for just a tiny moment. Please."

"Yes of course. I must find go look at the jewellery stalls." He bent at the waist, kissed the back of my hand and walked to one of the nearby stalls so his guard could still see him.

After checking Joffrey couldn't hear us (by slowly increasing the volume to the phrase "anymore inbread and the Prince would be a sandwich" until Joffrey turned to look at us, settling just under that), I greeted Sandor once more before asking how the tournament was for him.

He didn't reply.

"...That's cool. Oh! Here!" I unhooked my necklace and held it out to him. "The woman at the tailor's booth told me about a Lady's favour so I figured this would suit you. May I?"

Sandor didn't move. Taking that as a 'go ahead', I stepped around him and clipped the necklace on his forearm as if it was a bracelet meant to wrap around his gauntlet.

A horn blew somewhere in the distance.

Time to go watch the end of the joust.

* * *

This time, Ned had chosen to attend and I was sat on his left, nearer the king, Sansa on the other side.

After many had jousted, allowing me to search for a steady supply of snacks (when the knights were people I didn't recognise or care much about) which I had finished eating by now, it was almost the final joust.

The Mountain was up once again and this time against a so-called Knight of Flowers.

I finally recognise the knight as Olenna's grandson; the gay one from Highgarden.

Cocky as anything, possibly only beaten by the cock that isn't in his mouth, he paraded his horse in front of us. He stopped in front of the Stark father and daughter with a long stemmed red rose in hand.

Ned looked terrified.

It wasn't Ned's flower however. The knight gave it to Sansa who accepted it with a sweet, "Thank you Ser Loras," and a shy smile.

In an attempt to stop my eyes from rolling out of my head and landing before his horse like dice at a casino, I looked back at the group behind us.

If there was any confusion Ser Loras was gay, it was shut down completely by the heat in a man's eyes as he gazed at Loras. A quick look at Loras told me the sexual energy was borderline Brokeback Mountain.

_Poor Sansa._

The two knights brought their horses to stand before the king and bowed their heads to him, the dark horse the Mountain was sat on clearly having issues with Loras' horse.

_This isn't going to end well._

* * *

As it turned out, I was right.  _For once._

The Mountain's horse had been sent flying, breaking through the barricade and sending it's owner off of it's back.

A chorus of gasps echoed in the crowd and the heavy footsteps alerted me to the fact that people behind me were standing so I turned to watch.

"Such a shame Littlefinger," the stranger crowed behind me after laughing victoriously. "It would have been so nice for you to have a friend."

"And tell me, Lord Renly, when will you be _having_ your _friend_?"

Well I've been right twice now, Baelish confirmed my Sherlockesque deductions by pointing Loras out as well.

Satisfied, for now, I turned back to watch the rest of the joust.

_I'm going to get fucking whiplash if I keep doing this. I should have sat at nearer the back like I was at the cinema._

"Loras knew his mare was in heat. Quite crafty, really," Littlefinger informed the Starks in a whisper.

"Ser Loras would never do that," Sansa protested, "There's no honour in tricks."

_There is if you're a hooker or a pimp._

"No honour but quite a bit of gold."

During all of this, I wasn't watching the prancing prat parading pompously.

Instead, I was focused on the Mountain. After clambering up off the ground, he ripped off his helmet, bellowed and grabbed the reins of his huge horse. A much smaller man came running with a scabbard the size of him and presented it to the giant.

"OH SHI-"

The Mountain had just lopped off his horse's head in one foul swoop.

As the crowd gasped, the Knight of Flowers made his horse turn in time to see the Mountain launch himself at the man, causing him to fall off of his horse.

"REF!" I shouted, waiting for an intervention.

Instead, all I received was the sight of the Mountain swinging once more at the man on the ground, protected only by his shield.

"LEAVE HIM BE!" Sandor roared, leaping down from the Royal box to deflect the blow aimed for Loras.

Their swords were held together for a few seconds before they withdrew their swords back to each other, readying themselves for the next attack.

The two giants backed away from each other, watching and waiting as did the audience with bated breath.

Soon enough, the Mountain charged and swung at Sandor once more.

Sandor deflected.

I barely realised I had grabbed onto Ned's arm, sinking my nails into the material there until he shifted his weight.

_I can't watch this anymore._

Once more shifting in my seat, I gazed helplessly at the members of the King's box who made no move to help.

Joffrey's eyes were filled with panic like his siblings and yet a sick sense of glee was there as well.

Disgusted, I looked at the less horrifying sight; a battle of dicks over a prick.

"STOP THIS MADNESS IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!" _Fucking, finally._

In what may be the coolest move in the Seven Kingdoms, Sandor dodged under a blow and knelt with his sword in the ground before him.

The Mountain threw his sword into the dirt and stormed off into the crowd without a word.

"Let him go!" Robert commanded, causing the people to part like the Red Sea before him.

"Take that you stupid rock!" I shout at the Mountain's retreating figure.

Ned grabs the edge of my sleeve and pulls me down out of the way of the scathing glare he sent over his shoulder at me.

Loras tripped over the carnage on the floor to gaze up at Sandor's lowered face once he had stood up.

"I owe you my life, Ser."

"I'm no ser," Sandor retorted.

"In repayment for your valour, I step down as a champion of this tournament," Loras declared before grabbing Sandor's left hand and raising it in the air like a referee declaring a boxing champion.

_Wait... That means..._

"WOOOO! SANDOR! YEAH!" I fist-pump the air, jumping up.

_It's motherFUCKIN' PAY DAY! MAKE IT RAIN ON ALL THESE HOES!_

Once again, I'm tugged back down.

Lifting up my right arm, I flip the bird at Baelish briefly, opening my palm back at him to allow him to slip my money to me before I join in with the crowds cheers as I grin wildly.

When everyone had settled down, Loras stepped away and Robert announced, "Now, to the victor go the spoils. He must crown his Queen of Beauty!"

The crowd cheers once more and another peasant extra scurries from the crowd with the flower crown hipsters would jizz over like men over Japanese schoolgirls.

Pink roses threaded next to paler pink ones sat in a wreath on top of a cushion in the Bumblebee colours of the King.

Sandor was frozen, gazing around the crowd before he picked up the wreath and marched over to the King's lower box. The crown seemed to hover in Ned's direction before he carelessly dropped the crown in my lap wordlessly and headed off.

"Thank you!" I called after him.

Plopping it onto my head, I got up from my seat, curtsied and leapt over the rope following after him.

* * *

After searching around the tourney ground, checking all of the tents, I had found Sandor having his armour by another, shorter, man (probably an extra I will never see again) that lay scattered across the floor. The only pieces left were a breastplate and backplate with chain-mail on the chest.

"Finally! I've found you!" I nearly hit my foot on his Dog-shaped helmet but trip over it instead. Catching myself on the Squire's shoulder, much lower than the Hound's, almost crotch height. "Man, you have no idea how long I have been-"

"Would you fuck off already!"

His squire gasped in protest but didn't say anything in the face of Sandor's glare, still fiddling with something, probably a clasp, on the shoulder of the armour.

Sandor, misunderstanding my look as directed at his face, tilted his face so his hair hid the burnt side of his face and roared, "GET OUT YOU SILLY BINT!"

The squire gasped again, nearly giving himself whiplash and falling off of the stool he was on as Sandor insisted, "OUT!"

I huff and lift my skirt. Using the step stool, I undo the simple latches and allow the last piece of armour to fall to the floor with a clatter

"You did it? That easily?"

"What? Didn't think the silly bint could do it?" I shrug noncommittally. "Oh, before I forget - here," I dump the other small pouch Baelish had given me into Sandor's open palm.

"What's this?"

"I bet on you, it's only fair that you get at least half." Once again, I shrug and turn on my heel, jumping down the steps and begin to head out into the lowly descending darkness of the evening.

_Surely he's not going to-_

"Wait, girl. Might as well inform me of your plan before the Prince has my balls for your idiocy."

_He is._

I can feel my cheeks threatening to split as I burst into the Grinch grin as I twisted to face him. "We, my good friend, are going to get absolutely smashed!"

* * *

_My mouth tastes of ass and my throat is like a junkie's carpet._

"Wh-what?"

Apparently I had put my phone into the pouch with money and not noticed it since.

Unlocking my phone, I used the camera on it to look at myself.

I look like shit. No surprise.

In the corner of the camera, I could see a slightly blurry picture so I clicked on it.

I couldn't make out what it was until I remembered that that's what the lining of the case is. As my most recent photo, I must have taken some pictures before.

After some searching, I found a new album entitled 'ADVENTURES WITH DRUNKS!"

_Drunk me is not very imaginative. No wonder I'm not an artist._

I click on the first picture to see it's a photo of a pub sign labelling it as the Eel Alley Inn.

The following photo was of the pub's interior.

**_"This is one of my regulars. If you run us out of this I'll-"_ **

**_"Run me through. Got it."_ **

**_When the barman came over to the bar I had blurted out, "Do you do any Sex on the Beach? Screaming Orgasms? Blow-"_ **

**_Sandor's heavy glare could have burnt a hole in my head as he grunted out, "Two ales-"_ **

_**"Actually, can I have a mead?"** _

_**Sandor's narrowed eyes couldn't stop my grin as we went to sit in a corner far away from the other patrons.** _

_**Gazing around the room, I realised we were sat at a table meant for a group and not just two people. The walls were built with thick slabs of wood, just like the bar, the chairs, the door, the table... A hipster's wet dream if that hipster watched an insane amount of porn about wood.** _

_**I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick picture before Sandor hissed at me to put it away so I slipped it into the bigger purse-pouch that also held some money.** _

The disguise in question was captured in a selfie. The caption on it was; 'Didn't take Sandor for a Fashionista.'

**_Sandor had thrown a heavy length of cloth at me, just as we reached the pub door, before ordering,_ ** **_"Keep it pulled over your face. Don't want any of these pricks to bother me."_ ** ****

**_I hadn't known what to do with it so I held it in my hands, waiting for a full tutorial._ **

_**He snatched it from me and settled it around my back, lifting a hood at the back over my head. He pulled it slightly forwards before he let go like he'd been burned.** _

**_"Aww, you do care~"  
_ **

**_"Shut. Up."_ **

In the next picture, I had taken a sneaky picture of Sandor sipping from his ale.

The following pictures were more selfies of Sandor drinking before he caught me and had almost leapt across the table to get it, causing his palm to cover most of his face and snarl. It had also caused the drinks to spill onto me as he had jostled the table.

**_"GIVE IT!"_ **

**_"Quit it! We're gonna get kicked out for having a domestic!" I was giggling until I felt something wet land on me from my belly button and drip down into my shoes._ **

After sniggering for a little bit, I flicked to the next picture and was only vaguely surprised at what I saw - a random person. The caption on this one was 'Murder Buddies'.

**_Sandor had got up, told me to stay here and not bother anybody so I simply loaded a fanfic and began to read._ **

_**Time had gone by with nothing happen until footsteps alerted me to the fact that someone was at my table.** _

**_"What's a lil' thin' like ya sittin' here? All wet." A quick flick of my eyes 'treated' me to the sight of tombstone teeth - if they were yellow, some were missing and had cracks bigger than the one running down my arse._ **

_**"Look mate, fuck off." I didn't look up from my phone except from when the table began to creak.** _

**_He had begun leaning onto the table, clearly needing it for support. "Come on, you clearly want ta if you're here all alone in that~"_ **

_**"My friend's going to back in a moment." Before he could do anything more than lean slightly further, I took my shoe off and slapped him with it, causing him to slip on the drink covered floor.** _

_**Once he managed to heave himself up, he added, "I'm sure your lil' friend won't min' if I have a go at ya-"** _

_**"Her friend's right behind you."** _

_**When the man looked up at Sandor's narrowed eyes watching him like a hawk and his tightly clenched jaw, he didn't piss himself.** _ _**Drunken fool that he was, said his last words, "Wanna share her?"** _

_**Sandor grabbed him by the little hair he had with his free hand and knocked his head against the wall, his brains soon painting it.** _

_**"You alright?" I nodded, too lost for words. "Let's go."** _

_**I simply followed him, staying close to him as we walked out.** _ _**  
** _

_That's the last I saw my shoes. I wonder where my shoes went..._

_**"You have wet feet, put these on. They look about your size." Apparently shoes that looked like they had been filled with enough shit to overflow onto the rest of the shoe were fine for Sandor.** _

_**"Mate, I wouldn't wear those fucking things if you gave me socks like chastity belts." Dopily, I grinned up at him after slipping out of my slippery shoes."Guess, you're gonna have to carry me."** _

**_"You're pushing your fuckin' luck." He stormed ahead._ **

The next pictures were of the interior of the next pub. The furniture was pretty much the same but this time . The betrayal, the outrage, the shame!

**_I had changed into a simple blue peasant dress and brown cloak we had_ innocently _gathered from a tailor's shop and simple brown boots we had also innocently gathered from breaking a window._**

**_Sandor had settled down in an alcove and began to drink through them in rapid succession when I sat down and had an idea._ **

**_He was on his last drink when I began begging_ **

_**"Come on! Please!" I whined, having taken the crown of flowers off my head and attempting** _

_**"No. Now fuck off before I-" His mouth closed as I had plopped the flowers onto his head.** _

_**"-Rip my throat out with your teeth. Now scoot."** _

The next three pictures were of me and Sandor, my arm slung over his shoulder and a wide grin on my face as he stared at his reflection in the phone.

Another picture was from under Sandor's chin and I remember I had 

It explains the next picture of me on top of a table with my arms spread wide.

_**"Oh come on guys, do none of you have a dream?" Wobbly, I clambered up onto the table.** _

**_"NO!"_ **

**_"Fair enough."_ **

There was also a picture of me with a pebble.

_**As I staggered down the street, clutching onto Sandor's arm, I held a small rock in my hand that I had taken a picture of.** _

**_"I've taken me pic' to ch-cherish th-this peb-ble. Th-This i-is the on-only accep'able rock here, o-okay? 'Cause, you don't have Dwayne. B-But any-anythin' is bet-better than that cu-cunt the Moun-"_ **

**_The pebble was yanked out of my hand and hurled down the road, leaving a large dent in the door._ **

**_"No more rocks for you."_ **

_Good times. In one evening, we managed to commit murder, theft and..._

Then the door opened.

* * *

"My lady, we found this-" The two knights who had found me threw me from their grasp on my forearms down towards the floor, sending me onto my knees. "-On our rounds."

"Yeah and she had this on her head." Roughly, the other guard ripped the crown of flowers off of my head before tossing it to the ground, catching my hair on it.

"HEY! WATCH THE MERCHANDISE!" I sat criss cross apple sauce on the floor, rubbing the bruises I was sure would form on my arms soon.

"And who is this? An intruder? A spy? More Lannister scum?"

Catelyn stepped forwards, standing next to her sister's extravagant chair. " _That_ is Y/N L/N. Lysa, I told you about her."

"If what you say is true, Cat, I will interrogate the girl later. For now, we must deal with the Imp's trial," the woman on the throne declared. Her steely gaze burned into Tyrion, laced with a madness I was becoming uncomfortably familiar with. "Now, Imp, you wish to confess your crimes?"

 **"** Yes, My Lady. I do, My Lady."

A wide grin spread across Lysa's face like a crack in stone. "Sky cells always break them! Speak, Imp. Meet your gods as an honest man."

Tyrion bowed his head in what could have been shame before beginning meekly, **"** Where do I begin, my lords and ladies? I am a vile man, I confess it. My crimes and sins are beyond counting. I have lied and cheated, gambled and whored. I'm not particularly good at violence, but I'm good at convincing others to do violence for me. You want specifics, I suppose. When I was seven, I saw a servant girl bathing in the river. I stole her robe and she was forced to return to the castle naked and in tears. I close my eyes, but I can still see her tits bouncing..."

The trickling of laughter began to echo in the hall.

 **"** When I was ten, I stuffed my uncle's boots with goat shit. When confronted with my crime, I blamed a squire. Poor boy was flogged, and I escaped justice. When I was twelve I milked my eel into a pot of turtle stew. I flogged the one-eyed snake, I skinned my sausage. I made the bald man cry into the turtle stew, which I do believe my sister ate. At least I hope she did. I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel..."

The laughter became a storm; wild, manic and all-consuming.

"SILENCE!"

"What happened next?" The young boy next to her asked.

"What do you think you're doing?" Lysa hissed at him.

"Confessing my crimes," Tyrion replied innocently.

"Lord Tyrion," Catelyn began sternly. "You are accused of hiring a man to slay my son, Bran, in his bed and of conspiring to murder my sister's husband, Lord Jon Arryn; the Hand of the King."

"Well I'm very sorry but I don't know anything about all that."

"You've had your little joke. I trust you enjoyed it. Mord, take him back to the dungeon and this time find a smaller cell. With a steeper floor."

"Is this how justice is done in the Vale?" Tyrion pointed out, "You accuse me of crimes. I deny them. So you throw me into a cell to freeze and starve. Where is the King's justice? I am accused and demand a trial!"

"If you're tried and found guilty, then by the King's own laws you will pay with your life."

"I understand the law."

"We have no executioner in the Eyrie. Life is more elegant here. Open the Moon Door!"

A crank must have been turned because slowly the large marked circle on the floor began to open to reveal the bleak mountains beneath.

"You want a trial, my Lord Lannister? Very well. My son will listen to whatever you have to say and you will hear his judgement. Then you will leave, by one door or the other."

"No need to bother Lord Rob," Tyrion protested before declaring, "I demand a trial by combat."

Whispers began to increase to regular chatter as more people began to affirm that what Tyrion said was valid.

The two sisters looked helplessly at each other before Lysa glared down her witch nose at Tyrion and confirmed, "You have that right."

"My lady, I beg the honour. Let me be your champion."

"The honour should be mine. For the love I bore your Lord Husband. Let me avenge his death."

Shouts from all around the room were called down to the Lady of the Vale;

"I'll fight for you my lady!"

"It will be my honour!"

"The honour should surely be mine!"

The young boy leapt out of his seat and shrieked over the crowd, "MAKE THE BAD MAN FLY!"

_Now, normally I don't agree with hitting kids. I think it's awful. However, this one is clearly a spoilt little cunt who should have been thrown through the Moon Door many moons ago so..._

"Ser Vardis." Everyone turned to look at the man she had addressed. "You're quiet. Don't you want to avenge my husband?"

The man got down onto one knee and declared, "With all my heart, my lady. But the Imp is half my size. Shameful to slaughter such a man in cold blood and call it justice."

"Agreed."

"You demanded a trial by combat-"

"Is he not allowed to ask for a champion?" I interjected, silencing the room.

"I beg your pardon?"

"A champion. A volunteer. Someone to fight on his behalf. To even out the odds that only a coward would fight against." I've bristled a few feathers already, might as well go on. "I would offer myself but I can't do anything with a sword and I'm not wearing armour. Guess I should have come prepared but if so many men are willing to fight so dishonourably..." I trail off and allow room for complaints.

They don't come.

Ser Vardis, the smug prick, announces, "My lady, I would gladly fight the Imp's champion. For you."

"I wouldn't be too glad, sir," Tyrion smugly informed him. "I name my brother; Jaime Lannister."

My head is starting to hurt from the useless nonsense being spread around me.

"The Kingslayer is hundreds of miles from here-"

"Send a raven for him. I'm happy to wait."

The tight-lipped glower Lysa was giving made it clear she was not. She shook her head to confirm my thoughts before she announced, "The trial will be today!"

"Do I have a volunteer?" Tyrion began to walk around the room, glancing at each armoured man. "Other than the lady Y/N, who I am grateful for."

Mocking laughter chorused his walk until he returned to the spot where he started.

"No-one?"

I gazed around the room, feeling as helpless as Tyrion looked. Finally, I locked eyes with a roguish looking guy leant against the wall.

"Any one?"

I mouthed 'please' at him, begging him to understand and have mercy.

"I think we can assume-"

The rogue stepped forwards out of the shadows. "I'll stand for the dwarf."

More whispers.

He shrugged at Tyrion and looked at me once more.

'Thank you', I mouthed.

He simply nodded in reply.

* * *

As the two knights prepared for battle, I was stood next to Tyrion to watch the fight.

"What the fuck? That's not fair, he doesn't have a shield or a fucking helmet. What kind of shitty-"

"The heavy armour and shield may slow him down," Tyrion calmly reasoned, "The helmet may impair the other's vision."

"Well for your sake, I hope you're right."

I stood almost next to Tyrion, standing just behind his shoulder. The room was filled with the heavy foot steps as people changed position for the best view of the fight.

_These people really need to get a TV or just do orgies or something because this is ridiculous._

Once the crowd lulled to a stop, the pasty white kid thrust out his fist and aggressively shouted, "FIGHT!"

At once, the two launched at each other.

The armoured knight had the upper hand and used his long sword to take wide swipes that cut through the air and caused it to whistle. Luckily, Tyrion's champion leapt back out of harm's way each time.

Finally, when the guy had no more space to be backed into, Tyrion's champion deflected a blow from his opponent which gave him enough time to dance out of the way.

Up the stairs they battled. Heavy slashing followed by the champion's dodging once more. After deflecting a close hit, almost cutting his throat open, the champion leapt over the bannister.

"Stand and fight, coward!"

At this, the guy looked pissed. A swift kick from him sent a nearby floor standing candelabra at the heavily armoured knight. It did nothing but give him time to plan his next attack.

With a yell, the shield wielding knight launched at the other guy and forced him back. There's nowhere to go. Tyrion's champion's back is facing the Moon Door.

His foot slips. Suddenly he's wobbling backwards.

I grasp onto Tyrion's shoulders tightly, standing behind him now.

The armoured knight closed in on him. Using his shield, he forced himself up against the struggling knight.

Their swords still were raised in combat.

Tyrion placed his right hand on mine, still covering his shoulder.

A sudden burst of strength and the heavily armoured knight was pushed back.

**Slash. _Dodge._ Slash. _Dodge._**

This went on for only a few seconds but it got the recovered knight away from the Moon Door.

**Clash.**

The guy dodged under that, causing the other knight's sword to cut against a stone pillar.

Another hard slash at the champion. Quick manoeuvring this time sent the armoured knight into the wall.

Tyrion's champion grabbed a bystander and threw him at his opponent.

Backing away, causing all the viewers to rush past him, the man faced the incoming attack with elegance; dancing out of the way once more.

Steadily, the champion began to walk back to the Moon Door.

Ducking under a close swipe, the champion pierced his sword through the guy's armour and backed away again.

Gasps rang out around the room and Tyrion hissed a 'yes' with glee.

The struck knight, had to push art of his helmet out of the way, swaying slightly on his feet.

"Enough, Ser Vardis." Anxious, Lysa ordered, "Finish him!"

He slid the mouth guard back into place and swiped at the guy once more.

**Slash. _Dodge._**

The space between them grew smaller.

**Slash. _Dodge._**

A quick deflection and then an attack spun Ser Vagina around.

Swiping his sword low to the ground, Tyrion's champion cut into the flesh of his opponent's calves.

A grunt of pain and he crumpled forwards onto his knees.

A man of honour, Tyrion's champion allowed Ser Donkey to use his weaponry to stand.

Once back on his feet, with a guttural yell, he charged forwards with his sword raised high.

The champion turned and stuck his leg out.

Ser Dude went sprawling once more.

As he made to stand up, the still standing man kicked his shield away, out of reach.

The cries for the man to be quick and stand cheered him on as he valiantly made an effort.

Instead of standing, he brought his sword up behind him.

His opponent caught his fist. He stared him deep into the eyes. He looked at the Lady of the Vale. He raised his own sword in his right.

Cries of outrage and disbelief became the soundtrack to the desperate man.

And with a single thrust, Tyrion's champion brought his sword down and into the flesh of the man's neck. Withdrawing it, the blood glistened as it dropped onto the floor.

As the blood gushed down his body, Tyrion's champion simply let go of him and watched as his body fell through the Moon Door.

He had won.

I sunk to my knees in relief, hugging Tyrion around the middle. My eyes locked onto the smug smirk on the rogue's face and I mouthed a final 'thank you' as Tyrion nodded before pushing my face into the space between his shoulder blades.

My mis-placed grief was cut short as Lysa spat at Tyrion's champion, "You don't fight with honour."

Tyrion offered me a hand, helping me to stand. I used the corner of my sleeve to wipe my eyes.

"No," the knight mockingly admitted before pointing at the Moon Door. "He did."

With that, the knight turned around and swaggered over to Tyrion and I with a cocky grin on his lips, to an orchestra of complaints.

The bald man from earlier, Mould, I think, stepped forwards and uncuffed Tyrion.

"Will I make the little man fly now?"

"Not this little man. This little man is going home!" Tyrion stormed over to the old man who had been seated with Robb at Winterfell and insisted, "Now, I believe you have something of mine."

A nod from Catelyn allowed the man to toss a small coin purse at Tyrion.

Tyrion bowed swiftly and strutted back over to the champion and I.

Knowing I needed to talk to the Lady of the Vale to at least get some food or use the crapper, I didn't make a move to follow Tyrion.

Instead, I bent down and squeezed him into another hug, bidding him safe travels. Standing up, I faced the champion.

"What, no hug for me?"

"No," I admitted before stepping forwards, placing a hand on his shoulder before kissing his cheek. "Thank you for fighting for him when I couldn't."

Letting go, I watched as the two destined to be in a medieval buddy cop show adventure type thing, walked out like they owned the place.

_Now to deal with Nostrils and the gang._

* * *

There was no more talk of the 'Woman in the Sky', at least to my face.

Instead, I was given food, a warm bath and sent to bed in nothing. This world has a lot of acceptance for nakedness and yet not enough tolerance for gays, people of colour, women, magic, science...

_This is like counting Medieval sheep of intolerance..._


	18. Golden Showers and Fish Who Don't Swim In Them (Chapter 17)

"It's mine b-by right!" A voice in the darkness rambled, talking to himself. I jolted awake as a body fell onto me, before it rolled off onto the floor.

"Viserys, what the fuck?"

"Not now," he slurred, "I've gotta crown to-"

Once again naked, except for the small pouch on my wrist, in his presence, I steal a light blanket, the size of a large towel and wrap it round me under my arm pits, tying the front tight over my chest and praying it won't open. _I really need to shave everything soon because I think I can see my pubes sticking through the material._ "Viserys, you've just picked up a big ass sword and you're drunk. Tell me what the fuck is going on."

"I-I shouldn't rea-really have this b-but the savage-" His sword swayed in his grip as he staggered to the tent opening which I beat him to. Not without hitting my leg on everything.

"Viserys, I will only let you out of this tent if you give me your sword."

"No, I-"

"Please."

He thrust the sword at me, almost stabbing me in the process, before staggering out of the tent and began his trek.

After yeeting the sword onto his packed belongings, guided by slithers of moonlight, I followed after Viserys.

* * *

 **"** Khal Drogo! I'm here for the feast!" Viserys announced his arrival.

In return, the Khal simply pointed a finger at the door he had entered through.

Jorah stepped up to translate, "Khal Drogo says, 'There is a place for you - back there.'"

 **"** That is no place for a king!"

In an unexpected burst of English, the Khal spat out, "You are no 'king'.

Viserys glared at the Khal, reaching for the scabbard on his hip to grasp at nothing. Jorah laid a hand on his shoulder as Viserys watched his non-existent sword not appear in his hand.

A harsh shove barely moved Jorah back as Viserys shouted, "Keep away from me!"

"Viserys, please!" Dany burst out, standing up.

"There she is." Viserys nodded to his sister. He slowly began to walk over to her.

"Viserys, pack it in and stop being a little shit-" I stepped forward, only to be stopped by Jorah's arm in front of me.

"-Or what? They'll kill us?" An unkind grin, full of wickedness and the drunk genius that could build ideas for lunch or world domination, sloppily formed onto his face. "They can't kill us in their sacred city."

Daenerys' face showed no fear however I feared for her. Her stupid handmaiden, the pale one that had been riding Viserys like he was the best pony at the carousel, kept gasping when he looked at either of them.

"Oh, would you shut it! He doesn't even have a sword, he's not really a threat-"

Viserys decided to prove me wrong and wrapped a hand around Daenerys' throat. It obviously allowed her to breathe as his sloppy drunkenness had left his hand unable to tense.

Slipping out of her brother's grip, Daenerys sat down.

I didn't know whether to roll my eyes at the drama or face-palm at the stupidity of it all.

So I did both.

"I want what I came for," Viserys stated; the most sober he had been all evening. "I want the crown he promised me. He bought you but he never paid for you. Tell him I want what I bargained for or I'm taking you back. He can keep the baby-"

"That is enough, Viserys." I wrenched myself out of Jorah's grip and stormed over to him, stopping his speech of the drama level: Crylo Ren.

Apparently, the threat from his unfinished words was still there as the Khal spoke.

Ice-like, Daenerys translated for her husband, **"** You shall have a golden crown… That men shall tremble to behold."

Viserys smiled at the Khal. "That was all I wanted. What-what was promised." A small, elated giggle left his lips as he stepped backwards.

That smile had all the youth and sanity of a man forced to sacrifice everything. The smile of a dead man walking.

As he waited expectantly, Jorah went over to Daenerys once more. We waited as the Khal walked over to his wife and placed a possessive hand splayed over her pregnant belly. They locked eyes before the orders left the Khal's lips.

Two men hurried over and dragged Viserys backwards by his arms, forcing him down to the ground on his knees.

"No, you cannot touch me, I am the dragon, the _dragon_ , and I will be crowned." His protests were cut off by a crack and Viserys' arm bent unnaturally, causing him to fold into himself and quiet.

The stew was thrown out of the pot on the fire in the middle of the tent as the Khal marched over and dropped a massive pile of gold jewellery into it.

"Wait a minute! WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE!" I shouted, before turning on Daenerys with an unbelieving expression. "You're kidding, right?"

She didn't answer me, instead choosing to watch her brother.

"Daenerys you are not seriously letting this happen. Think clearly. Please," I pleaded.

The only sounds in the room were the spitting of fire beneath the pot, the whispering of the translator and the whimpering of Viserys. No one was protesting so I chose to continue speaking in Viserys' defence because someone had to.

_I deserve all the presents. All the nice things like food, orgasms, jewels..._

"I get it. He's a cunt. But you know what, we're all cunts on different levels and killing your brother is not going to help. Plus, he didn't violate your rules! He hasn't shed blood or even got stuff to do it with! He's too drunk to even piss straight, let alone walk or aim a fist. Besides...Look at the gold."

We watched the fire expectantly for a few seconds.

"That's not going to fucking melt quickly, is it?"

"You know what, me and Jorah-" I glared pointedly at him until he came over to my side, "-Are going to deal with Viserys. I'll send him back to Illyrio but just know that what goes around comes around."

"Is that a threat?"

"Nah, just a warning. You promised him the Iron Throne, he ain't getting it from you. You've broken your promise and the Gods here work in mysterious ways. So... Good luck. Make better choices. Peace." My final words for the evening spoken, I backpedalled out of the tent.

* * *

Supporting a staggering, hysterical man is tiring. A labour no one should be forced to bear as they have to accommodate flailing limbs, hysteria and the screams of pain from a broken or at least dislocated arm.

Thankfully, I was only doing so emotionally.

"What now?" Jorah asked calmly, his arm supporting most of Viserys' weight as his legs dangled uselessly.

"As I said, you're going back to Illyrio and taking him to stay there." Viserys made a noise of protest. "I just saved your life, Viserys. Don't waste it."

"I just wanted my crown," he sobbed out, falling onto me and beginning to cry on my shoulder.

_Drunk child._

"I know," I stroked his hair gently, wrinkling my nose at the faint stickiness on my shoulder.

_At least it's not on my thigh._

"Now, you're to get the fuck out of dodge." A horse was parked - _I need a fucking drink. I'm drink from irritation and exhaustion -_ by Viserys' tent so I pulled out the bags at the entrance and gave them to Jorah. "Jorah, if anything happens to him, if you let him die, I'm going to do something to you so bad that it will make Hitler look like a saint."

Maybe an hour later, the two were saddled with their bags and Viserys' arm wrapped by me, the fucking legend that I am, and set off into the imaginary sunrise as it was still the dead of night.

After watching them disappear, I went into Viserys' tent, re-attached the leg brace and passed out on his bed.

* * *

A pile of clothes is thrown at me, waking me up.

"Get dressed," a matronly maid orders at me before leaving the room.

_Thank you for the lack of drama!_

I roll back over, tug the covers back over my head and unsuccessfully attempt to sleep a little longer.

* * *

After getting dressed into a simple outfit (a brown wool tank top, a long sleeved maroon overshirt with a belt, thin wool-lined trousers, a pair of brown boots in my size and a cloak), I had went onto a small adventure around Winterfell castle until I found the non-Stark guy with horses in the courtyard.

"Theon, right?"

"Yes~"

"Ah, Robb's just helping his brothers saddle up in the stables. We're heading out to test the saddle. Here, let me help you-"

"If you don't take your hands off my arse right now I am going to cut your cock off and sew it to your forehead to make you a unicorn."

Theon lets go for a second before pressing himself against my back. "Maybe later, I can give you something to test out whilst riding-"

"That's enough Theon."

With a quick bow, Theon hurried off to where Bran was, sat on their own horses, along with the other horse that Robb wasn't leading.

"Here, my lady. You'll be riding with me today." A gentle grip on my waist and he helped place me onto the saddle of the horse.

"Thank you." I smiled at him, feeling the stress from Vaes Dothrak rolling off of me in waves.

Robb grinned up at me, a bright cheeky grin worthy of a Disney prince on his face, before he got on the horse behind me easily with one swift kick off the ground. His arms settled around my waist and he held the reins in his hands on my lap. Leaning forward, his lips brushed against my ear as he asked, "Ready to go?"

* * *

"Not too fast!" Robb called after his younger brothers, Bran charging round and around the clearing in circles, hooting merrily with his direwolf running around them.

"When you going ta tell him?" Theon asked.

"Not now," Robb replied, still watching his brothers with his right hand on mine.

"Lord for blood. You need to make the Lannisters pay for Jory and the others."

"You're talking about war."

"I'm talking about justice."

"Only the Lord of Winterfell can call in the bannermen and raise an army."

"Lannister put his spear through your father's leg. The Kingslayer rides for Casterly Rock where no one can touch him-"

"You want me to march on Casterly Rock?" Robb began, his voice beginning to increase in volume. I stroked my thumb over his hand, feeling the tension in him decrease by a fracture.

Theon attempted to best him in the shouting knob head competition. "You're not a boy anymore. They attacked your father! They've already started the war! It's your duty to represent your house when your father can't."

Robb's jaw ticked, tightening his grip on my hand as he spoke in a voice as cold and serious as death, "And it's not your duty because it's not your house."

Theon stared incredulously at the side of Robb's face as he turned to me and offered me a small smile.

That's when I noticed... The silence.

Robb looked around the clearing before standing from the log we had been sat on, turning to look behind him.

"Where's Bran?"

Theon and I both stood up, looking into the depths of the forest for any sign of the boy.

"Don't know," Theon snarkily replied, "It's not my house."

"Don't be a-" I cut myself off, took a deep breath and once again took Robb's hand - forcing him to look at me. "We'll find him."

* * *

Robb had set me on his horse once more. Pressing a blade into my hand, he kissed the back of it and headed off on his own search.

I had been searching for a while now. In other circumstances, I could have used this time to reflect on the meaning of life or where the boys go if you place a milkshake in one place and crack open a cold one in the other...

A voice declared, "-Brandon Stark of Winterfell. If you don't let me be I'll have you all killed."

"Bran!"I shouted. Robb's horse burst through the clearing, almost sending me toppling off the horse.

Three disgusting swamp-people or just really medieval hobos/dirtier wildlings surrounded Bran on his horse.

"Oh, another one!" The peasant cutting into Bran's straps declared, "We'll get her later."

They were whispering to each other, ignoring me presence as I slipped off Robb's horse who stayed silent and followed me as I creeped up on them.

I had got so close with my dagger raised, that I heard; "-Ain't no White Walkers down in Dorne."

Apparently I was wrong about there being three of them as one of them yanked me back into them, a tight grip on the dagger pointed at my neck and waist, stopping my arms from moving. Robb's dagger dropped onto the ground as the man himself appeared.

"Drop the knife," Robb ordered as he withdrew his sword from it's scabbard. "Let them go and I'll let you live."

The man nearest Robb charged forwards with an axe.

Robb dodged backwards each time the man slashed at him.

Raising his sword, he deflected the third attack and slit the man's throat open.

As Robb was attacked by another, I slammed my foot down onto the person's foot and slipped down onto the floor. I picked up Robb's dagger and stabbed him in the dick.

He crumpled.

For good measure, I slit his throat and hurried to stand up.

Only to be knocked down again by something hitting me in the face and sending me flying forwards.

A foot landed on the small of my back, pressing me into the dirt. My head swimming, barely escaping unconsciousness, I tilted my head up with all the strength I had and gazed at Robb's figure as it blurred in my vision.

"Robb!" Bran drew Robb's attention.

"Shut up," the man above me hissed at him.

"Drop the blade."

"No. Don't," Bran managed to gasp out.

"Do it!"

The sword in his hand began to be lowered as Robb flicked his gaze between his brother and I.

Bran's sobbing became prominent when the sword made a slight ringing noise with the ground.

_Maybe that's just my head. God, a golden crown would have been better than this. Even a golden shower from a guy with AIDs and a pus-wridden cock would have been better than this._

All of a sudden, the man's foot jabbed me deeper into the ground as he let out a gasp.

He fell off me and I wheezed out a breath, feeling something in my chest shift as I rolled over onto my back.

"Are you alright?" Robb lifted up his brother carefully, inspecting him.

"Yes. It doesn't hurt."

"Tough little lad!" Theon complimented. "In the Iron Islands, you're not a man until you've killed your first enemy. Well done."

"Have you lost your mind?" Robb spat out. "What if you'd missed?"

"He would have killed you, cut Bran's throat and either slit Y/N's throat or raped her-"

"You don't have the right ta-"

"-To what? To save your brother's life? To save her life? It was the only thing to do so I did it."

"What about her?" I couldn't see the person Robb was mentioning as I was busy on my hands and knees coughing up what could be blood.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a large figure scurry towards Robb, begging, "Give me my life, my Lord and I'm yours." She sat up and held her hands together in a begging motion.

"We'll keep her alive."

She let out a sob of relief and fell to the floor.

"Theon, you left your horse in the clearing?"

"Aye milord."

Robb slowly passed Bran into Theon's now free arms. "Take Bran. Keep him safe. We'll get your horse on the way."

"What about her? Shall I tie her to Bran's horse?"

Robb had walked back over to me and lifted me up into his arms. My vision swirled as he did so, as the audio began to fade.

* * *

I can't really recall the ride from the forest to the bed I was laid in now but fuck me does it hurt to be attended to medically here.

Except for when it didn't anymore.

"How is she?"

Someone sat down on the bed near my propped up head.

Clapping my hands onto the persons face, I declared, "You're pretty~"

"Milk of the poppy, milord. That coulda been a nasty head wound as well as a back wound from the pressure and not broken ribs but almost."

"Leave us," the person ordered. The other one complied.

"You're pretty," I repeated.

"Oh~ How so?"

"You've got smooth skin but prickly skin not like a toilet brush. You're like the moon. Pale and far away. Your hair... Your hair is soft-" I slid a hand up into the curls. "-In this light, they're kind of red. Rusty red, not fire. It's nice and soft. Usually, it's dark and curly. And your eyes..." I trailed off in awe.

I could feel the person smile under my hand as they asked, "Yes?"

"They're beautiful. Sometimes they're the depths of a cave; mysterious and dark with a warm light behind them. Now they're blue like the depths of the ocean." Sliding a hand down the face, I poked at the lips. "Maybe you're a fish."

A burst of laughter fell out of their lips.

Carefully, they pulled the hands off of their face and placed them under the covers. Tucking me in, they stated, "If it wasn't for you, my brother could have died."

"That's nice Pretty Fish."

As my eyes began to flutter shut, I felt a kiss laid at the corner of my mouth and on my forehead.

* * *

I had woke up behind a pillar and slowly stood up, mindful of the pain and walked to find someone sat on the floor before his throne.

"Bobby B?" I called out.

"Ah, the Woman in the Sky." Robert's eyes were far away and he leaned back onto the steps leading up the iron throne. "Perhaps this is good luck for the hunt tomorrow!"

"Okay..." I warily approached him. "You're more pissed than I was when I went drinking the other night. Your head is going to be like the inside of a sex dungeon tomorrow."

"Come, drink with me. I'm in no mood for whores right now." He patted the spot next to him but I chose to sit the opposite side of his large tankard. There was no other glass for me.

Fair enough.

"What's put you in such a bad mood?"

"When will Ned see that honour will be the death of him?" Robert began to rant. "Just because he won't have the girl and her child killed-"

"This is about your bromance?"

"The Dothraki have a cause!" A vein in his forehead began to throb, almost as red as his skin was turning slowly like Violet from the Willy Wonka factory except for the man with the body of Augustus Gloop. "We lost our cause-"

"When you say we, do you mean you?" I affirmed.

His head snapped towards me, eyes focused and glaring daggers as he roared, "Mind your tongue or I'll have it cut out!"

His voice echoed in the throne room and yet no one came to investigate.

In a voice far too small for a man of his size, he confided, "She should have been mine."

"Who?"

"Lyanna Stark." Robert slumped further over his drink, holding it tight with an iron, white-knuckled grip. "Ned's younger sister. We were betrothed until Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped her and ran away. I picture his body every night after an age of fighting each other, I beat the skill swordsman and launched my hammer into his chest, over and over again."

"What if... call me crazy... she ran away with him of her own free will."

"She was too young. I was waiting for her to come of age so we could marry."

"How old are we talking here?"

"My Lyanna was 14 and Rhaegar already had a wife, Elia of House Martell, and two children at the age of 24. That alone helped gather more people for the cause."

"You went to war for her?"

"The rebellion would have happened anyway. It was just the final straw when he stole her from me. I was the Lord of Storm's End and she, a Lady of Winterfell. A powerful alliance that would have bound our houses in marriage. Rhaegar's father, the Mad King Aerys, had already caused discord in the North when he killed Rickard and Brandon Stark in what may be the most gruesome death ever heard of."

"How did they die?" I was almost afraid to learn the truth if the smashing of people's faces and bodies was not the most gruesome thing here.

"A tale for another time perhaps." Robert took another sip of his ale, a shaky breath whistling through his "But Rhaegar... he knew what he was doing. No one can tell me different." He snorted. "Wouldn't anyway, I'm the King. He insulted House Martell by embarrassing his wife and children in public when he gave Lyanna those roses and when he ran away. He insulted House Stark by stealing her. They insulted House Baratheon by breaking my engagement to her by death!"

_So... the war started because Rhaegar couldn't keep his dick in his trousers despite having two kids and a wife already. Man of the year. What an absolute wanker._

_But Viserys..._

To clear my head from the thought, I implored, "Tell me something happier." I pulled my legs under me to get into a more comfortable position on the floor. "We've got all evening."

In the shadows cast by the fire, I could see the Robert he could have been; just a Lord, probably less fat and happily married - and the Robert he is; a jaded man who fucks his way through the world to take away the pain.

Robert took a long drink of his ale, drowning his sorrows and draining the large tankard with one gulp. A grin appeared on his face, vanishing all previous  before he began, "There's a tradition called 'Making the Eight' where you fucked a girl from all the seven kingdoms _and_ the Riverlands...

_Then again, Lyanna may not have loved Robert for his man-whoring._


	19. Dicks, Transvestites, Drugs or the YMCA (Chapter 18)

I had woken up back at Illyrio's, only to be informed that he wasn't there. However, he had left instructions for me to receive guest rights.

So, here I was, sat on a bed in a fine, flowing gown of a simple sea green over layer with a matching strip of the material as a belt over the simple silver threaded fabric of the main dress, with matching silk slippers and no accessories, watching Viserys sleep. Not like a stalker because there was someone else in the room with me, one of his servants.

"How is he?" I asked.

"A tad delirious but the milk of the poppy is helping keep the pain away." The man bowed before declaring, "I'll leave you two alone."

Viserys' eyes began to flicker open as he moaned in pain?

"You alright?"

"She saved me... From myself. She's so kind and innocent." _Wtf? "_ Oh Mother, protect her, the embodiment of the Maiden. Stranger, keep her away from your light until I am gone..."

"I'm not dying yet. Fuck man. This is the kind of thing I get when I save your life-

"If what I felt was a simple infatuation, this must be love." He looked towards me blearily. "Do you think... she could love me?"

"Mmm... I'm not Tauriel and you're too tall to be Kili so I dunno. Ask the magic eight ball again later."

I passed over a goblet of water to him, having to help him drink it as he was only slightly propped up. When he finished, he settled back 

"Would you sing to me?"

"Um... _The wheels on the bus go round and round..._ No? Okay, _soft kitty, warm kitty-"_

"What are you doing?"

"Singing? Look mate, it's pretty much the only one I can get the rhythm right on unless you want songs about dicks, transvestites, drugs or the YMCA."

"...Sing something else."

And so I sang the Targaryen prince to sleep with a song of the green being and his adventures with love, including disbelief.

* * *

"Y/N!" Daenerys ran towards me, throwing her arms around me tightly.

"You look godd, have you got a tan? Wow, you look really nice!"

"Thank you." She giggled as she pulled on my arm, her age clearer to me, declaring, "We're going to the markets!"

* * *

Daenerys took my arm in hers and we walked towards the thickest part of the market like that with her three handmaidens and the guy that strangled Viserys.

"Any word of my brother?" Daenerys asked me.

"He's... not great. He's alive and they fixed his arm but..." I trailed off, allowing her to fill the silence left behind it.

"And... Ser Jorah?" Dany almost timidly asks.

"He rides this way as we speak. He left Viserys at Illyrio's doorstep apparently and hurried back. My guess is he should be back in the next couple of days."

We pass by multiple stalls, many people giving us free shit as we go.

"Ooh~ Snakes," the dick riding champion cooed, pointing out a certain stall. "How about a companion, friend of Khalessi?"

"First of all, if I'm hopping all over the world here, I do not need some kind of parasite to latch onto me. People here do that enough already. And secondly, are you sure they're snakes because that looks like a tape worm? And those ones in the pot look like leeches and stretched beef jerky. They're not really moving."

A man stood next to a variety of barrels before a caravan shouting where Daenerys began to lead me away from the 'snakes'.

"What's he saying?"

"A taste for the Khalessi," Irri informed me.

"What exactly are you to be tasting?"

"Tyroshi pear wine. I've never tried-"

"In your best interest, I'm going to say let's go. You're pregnant and he looks a little bit dodgy."

"And by a little bit you mean..."

"More than likely riddled with AIDs from the children he keeps in the back of his caravan and picks up kids by promising them free Wi-Fi."

"Oh, come on, Y/N. One taste, that's all he's offering me..."

The man still chattered at her.

"Why is he so insistent?"

Turning to the man, I barked, "NO! Fuck off. Do you want it in Spanish? Because it's still no! _ **Vos. Vosecchi!**_ (No. No way!)"

"My son already has his name-"

"These bitches are ignoring me," I mutter.

"My lady, you are from Westeros?"

"You have the honour of addressing Daenerys of the House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the riding men and princess of the Seven Kingdoms."

"What part of stranger danger do you fuckers not know?" I hiss at the cowgirl before turning back and grumbling, "This is _so_ obviously a con. In fact the only reason why this guy knows this much about you if he's from Westeros is..."

"Rise," "I'd still like to taste that wine."

The cup is taken from Daenerys' hand as he exclaims, throwing the wine onto the ground, "That wine is Dornish swill, not worthy of you,. I have a dry red from the Arbor that is nectar of the Gods. Let me give you a cask. A gift!" He ran back to fetch it.

"You honour me, sir," Daenerys called after him. She pinched my upper arm, still not letting go and hissed at me, "Y/N, you're being rude."

"Um, first of all; OOOOWWWW!"

As he brings the cask over, intending to pass it straight to her, he "The honour is mine. The honour is all mine." Insert evil smile here.

_Way to be subtle._

Rahkaro intervened but instead pulled it into his arms to carry.  _Mate, you've lost all badass points._

"You know there are many in your homeland that pray for your safe return, princess."

"I hope to repay this kindness some day."

"Put down that cask. Order him right now."  _What was I taught in my one Dothraki lesson when I wasn't thinking about whether the dicks of the Dothraki were like the horses... "_ **Azzohi haz!** _(_ Put that down!)"

"But why? Something wrong?"

"I have a bad feeling about this."

"It's just harmless wine."

"Fine, if it's so harmless, he can open it."

His eyes open in shock. "The wine is for the Khalessi, it's not for the likes of you-"

"My friend may have some if she has a thirst," Daenerys insists, beginning to watch him warily.

"Vikessi," he grumbled at me.

"I know the fuck you did not just call me an annoying woman!" At his shocked face, I bragged, "Yeah, that's right. I'm in the know. Now open it." Once he does so, I order, "Pour me a glass."

"It would be a crime to drink a wine this rich without at least giving it time to breathe."

"Okay... 1, 2, 3. I've had enough time to breathe in and out, the wine's no different."

When he still does not open it, Daenerys orders, holding onto me tightly, "Do as she says."

"As the princess commands."

I lifted the small golden cup up to my nose, smelling the bitterness of it.

"Can you smell the fruit? Taste it, my lady." His beady little eyes gleamed in the midday sun. "Tell me if that is not the finest wine that has ever touched your lips."

I took the cup away from me, pointing it at him. "You first."

"Me, I am not worthy of the vintage. Besides, it is a poor wine merchant who drinks up his own wears.

 **"** You will drink. **"** Daenerys ordered.

Time ticks by as his wide eyes gaze worriedly at Dany and I, flicking between our two hard gazes.

The wine seller dropped the glass, shoving the cask at Rakharo and running away, shoving past Daenerys and I to escape.

"See! What did I say?"

Rakharo took chase once he recovered and threw something at him, causing the assassin to fall to the ground and be tackled by other members of the Dothraki.

_Okay, badass points returned._

* * *

The wineseller had been dragged back to the Dothraki camp and beaten bloody by the Khal whilst Daenerys had brought a soup over to me, the colour and consistency of diarrhea, as she frets;

"Y/N, I am so sorry for not believing you-"

"It's fine. Chill. Sit down, let's eat this so I don't have to look at the weird fucker tied to a pole that's not pole dancing." I paused. "...He's not going to do that as punishment is he? I won't be able to keep my dinner down."

"Oh no! His punishment is far worse," Daenerys informed me, "He will be forced to walk behind the khalasar, tied to the last rider... naked."

I nearly dropped my soup as I threw my head back, nearly falling over with the laughter I began to expel.

Once I had recovered, the soup was taken from me with the promise of it's return by Irri (better keep your word, I'm starving), and we all stood as the Khal approached. He stood before the tied up man, looming over him as the assassin spluttered. A torch was passed to him, held over the pitiful man's head before being swiped away as Drogo threw it into the fire.

He held Daenerys' face in his hands as he called her 'Moon of my life' in his own language, gazing down at her face with the most tender look for a man who could probably squeeze her head like that. When he asked if she was hurt ( _I only knew the word to hurt and he seemed upset, so I'm not a Dothraki dictionary yet. I may be a dick by I'm quite a few letters off.)_ she simply shook her head. A kiss was placed on her forehead, holding onto her as if it was the last he would ever see of her, before he addressed me.

_Welp, I'm dead._

_He walked over to me_ and held me by the shoulders with an iron grip and I suddenly wished I hadn't let Viserys not be dunked on if that was to be my fate. Instead, all I heard was some Dothraki and the only words I could pick up after he said my name were 'horse' and 'give'. I looked over to Daenerys for help, as Drogo held me in an awkward man hug.

"My husband wishes to give you any horse of your choosing for saving my life today."

Remembering the Dothraki have no word for 'thank you' I simply nod my head.

The Khal slaps my shoulder in return and walks over to his wife.

When he reached her, he held onto her stomach and began to speak. 

He begins what sounds and looks like a speech as he shouts and marches around the fire pit, minus the barely melting gold, declaring something about sitting and thrones to the hyped up crowd.

Daenerys locked eyes with her husband as he neared the end, something primal in her eyes.

And I just waited for my soup to be brought back.

* * *

Once again, I had woken up with a crick in my neck as I was laid against a pillar.

_Fuck, Irri lied to me._

My soup had never been brought back but I had been given many flagons of ale and other wines taken from the market.

Footsteps nearby alerted me to other people's presence so I stood to greet them.

Hobbling down the corridor, with a sword at his hip and a cane by his side as well as a long hair casual knight, was Lord Stark.

"Ned!" I greeted groggily, eyeing up his cane. "What happened to your leg?"

"Jaime Lannister happened-"

"NED!" Someone shouted, interrupting our conversation and drawing our attention to the very blood stained man.

"Renly, Robert's younger brother," Ned informed me quietly.

"It's Robert. We were out hunting and a boar..." he trailed off and began to march back down the hall, beckoning us to follow him.

* * *

The door was opened for us and I helped Ned down the steps, following Renly into the room.

On the bed, laid Robert shirtless with a thick binding of bandages on his lower torso with a large patch of blood leaking through. Sat next to him, was Joffrey who refused to look away from his father. Standing to the side, heads bowed in respect were Cersei, an old man in heavy robes with a long chain and an elderly knight.

"Go on," Robert gently cautioned Joffrey, "You don't want to see this."

Joffrey jerked away from his father/step-father, taking a few seconds to look at him through a teary gaze before rushing out of the room.

"My fault," Robert admitted before he chuckled. "Too much wine. Missed my thrust."

I supported Ned until he sat down on the bed, taking Joffrey's previous position before sitting next to him.

Ned pulled the blanket down to reveal the extensive wound that peeked through the bloody mess of bandages on him, that shifted and squelched as he breathed.

"It stinks," Robert commented on the foul smell coming from him. As Ned replaced the blanket, Robert stated, "Stinks like death. Don't think I can't smell it." Robert let out a low chuckle as he gazed at Ned. "I paid the bastard back Ned! I drove my knife right through his brain. You ask 'em if I didn't. Ask them," Robert insisted, flicking his eyes to the knight and his brother on the opposite side of the bed. "I want the funeral feast to be the biggest the kingdoms ever saw and I want everyone to taste the boar that got me. Now... leave us, the lot of you."

I made to stand, only halted by Robert's quiet, "Not you, girl."

"Robert, my sweet-"

_For fuck's sake, Cersei, don't be a cunt today._

"OUT, ALL OF YOU!" Robert groaned at them before beginning to cough.

Once everyone had left the chamber, leaving Ned and I with the King, I began to feel uncomfortable just hovering next to Ned.

"Come closer, girl," Robert commanded.

In response to his command, I sat on the bed next to Ned. I slowly took Robert's hand and croaked out, "I'm sorry. This is my fault. I bound your fate. I'm so sorry. We could have been homeboys and gone on adventures but I saved-."

He shushed me. "You'll do well, Y/N. Live well in my name. Live by my house's words; ours is the fury."

"I will. Maybe I'll win a war or two." I placed a kiss on his forehead before standing up.

"Now leave us, I have to speak with Ned."

Passing Ned's cane back to him, I placed a hand onto his shoulder as I whispered into his ear, "Ned, don't do anything stupid. Please."

I cast a single look back at Robert before leaving the room.

* * *

Five of us, not including the guard at the door, waited outside Robert's death bed. We all waited in silence, allowing me to inspect each person.

The old knight was encased in a golden armour. Expensive tin man.

The bald guy was the best dressed in an olive robe with long sleeves that he held together, hidden by the sleeves. The best dressed Padawan who had to sacrifice his hair.

The old man, with a beard that would come second place to the Three Eyed Raven's, in the heavy cloak with the large chain I finally realised was the maester as the guy at Winterfell had looked similar.

Renly, Robert's younger brother, was dressed in a loose yet long leather vest, bloody hands, a blood-stained shirt and long dark leather boots. He must have been the person to try and stitch his brother back together again.

_All the King's horses and all the King's men, couldn't put Humpty together again._

Ned ducked out of the room, minutes after I had left, leaning heavily on his cane.

"Give him milk of the poppy," he quietly ordered the Maester who extremely slowly, hobbled to do so. His chains jangled like those of Jacob Marley as he went.

Renly followed him.

"He was reeling from the wine," admitted the old decorated knight, guilt evident in his voice. "He commanded us to... step aside but... I failed him."

Ned shook his head solemnly as he disagreed, "No man could have protected him from himself."

"I wonder, Ser Barristan, who gave the King this wine?"

"His squire," Ser Barristan answered, as if he thought nothing of it. "From the King's own skin."

"His squire?" Ned echoed. "The Lannister boy?" The Knight nodded his head in confirmation.

"Such a dutiful boy to make sure that His Grace did not lack refreshment." "I do hope the poor lad does not blame himself."

I could practically see the cogs whirring in the older men's heads.

"His Grace has had a change of heart, concerning Daenerys Targaryen. Whatever arrangements, you made, unmake them. At once."

"I'm afraid, those birds have flown."  _The creepy wine seller from earlier..._  "The girl is most likely dead already."

I snorted lightly, drawing the attention of Ser Barristan and Ned before they re-focused on the bald gossip girl.

Ned nodded once before he turned on his heel and walked down the hallway, leaving the three of us behind.

"Y/N L/N," I introduced myself to break the silence.

"Lord Varys." He bowed his head in greeting before he took my hand. "My lady, I would have preferred to have met you during better circumstances. Perhaps, my lady, we should talk in private."

"Of course," I agree calmly, as I am clearly a respectable adult and not just going for the free food. Bidding farewell to Ser Barristan, I walk with Varys away from the last place Robert would be alive.

_RIP Bobby B._

_Ha, that rhymed._


	20. Sting Like A Bee (Chapter 19)

_When will my stomach be fed?_

There had been no free lunch as it turns out, no drink either. Varys and I were sat in the gardens as we spoke little about the myth of the Woman in the Sky.

"When I was a boy, I heard stories. Those stories kept many men warm at night and comfortable in their cups. One of the main stories of Myr and even Pentos was the Woman in the Sky as the Northerners have come to call it. The rest of Westeros calls her the Stormbringer, almost a deity to the people of the Stormlands... well those who don't believe in Rh'llor. The Iron Born believe her to be brought by the Sea itself. Some even believe her to be the Weeping Woman herself or the Many-Faced God of Death in Braavos. In the Free Cities she is called _'_ Se Chosen mēre _'_ , Valyrian for the Chosen One-"

"You're kidding, right?" I asked incredulously, nearly beginning to laugh as I choked out, "I mean, I get the mystic hippie dippied do dah and all but fuck me sideways with a chainsaw-"

"My lady, this is not a laughing matter. If you are she, we are all in danger." Varys placed his hand on the back of mine, making sure his gaze was held. "Each title comes with a different purpose, a different reason to cause discord, chaos, war, famine, death and other plagues upon our world. If you are she, you must realise who you are meant to be. For the good of the realm."

Someone coughed behind Varys and he turned his head to look at them.

_Holy shit is his head shiny. When will my reflection show..._

Behind him stood two men. One was dressed in a squire's outfit in the colours of the Baratheons and behind his was a smaller servant boy dressed in a simple hipster yoga outfit; tunic and leggings.

A bound scroll was given to Varys.

Peeking over Varys' shoulder at the scroll, I picked out a few words and asked, "A summons?"

"From _King_ Joffrey..." Varys looked at me pointedly after the messenger spilt that particular pot of tea. "I must leave you now my lady."

"The lady must come to." A separate scroll is given to me by the messenger before a squire hurries along and places a hefty box at my feet. "A gift from his majesty the King. He wishes for you to wear them in court today."

* * *

I had been brought to a smaller chamber, close to the courtyard outside the throne room where people were beginning to gather.

Two women; one an older pasty white woman with hair like bronze helped me dress and the other a younger, bronze skinned woman slid things into my hair after yanking a brush and a comb (that broke) through it.

Standing before the looking glass, I looked at the puffy dress I was in.

I had been squeezed into a pair of black tights (that I took off when the two had left), leaving me feeling like I was a size two sausage in a size one casing. A yellow corset-thing, described as 'casual' and a stay yet it still squeezed my ribs as if it was meant to pop them out of my skin, had been kept as a dress was draped over me. The dress had gauzy sleeves that reached just after my elbows and the same gold thread pattern over the rest of the thicker black gown. For once, my shoes were low heels in a similar black and gold to the dress.

Apparently, my theme was bees. The necklace had a bee on it. The hoop earring had bees on them. The ring had a bee on it. The brooch clasping the keyhole back closed had a bee on it. The hair pins, holding my hair out of my face in a simple style that left it mostly down, had bees on them.

Not terrible but it's an eyesore.

_At least it's not a gimp suit._

* * *

Dressed in a dress too fine to fuck up in, I was guided into the throne room by a guard to stand before the iron throne.

Joffrey was dwarfed and enhanced by the throne in a way that Robert couldn't have been. It towered above me, above his mother sat on a chair, pristine and proper, and loomed menacingly. The boy on the throne was exactly that; a boy. Too small, too arrogant, to dramatic, beating out Crylo Ren and Viserys to almost equate to prequel Darth Vader's sand angst.

"May I ask why I'm here?" I asked after waiting for someone to do something more than sitting on their arses and thinking about fingering each other. "I don't wish to be rude but surely you, as the King, must have something better to do."  _Because I sure as fuck do._

He smiled at me as he leant casually "My lady, I hope you appreciate your gift for this occasion as I have called you here to pledge fealty to me."

"I pledge my allegiance to you... Is that it?"

"You will be taught our ways in time. Now, repeat after me-" Joffrey began and I prepared to drone on after him. "First, bend the knee."

Slowly, I complied. 

After repeating the most boring lines about being honour bound and duty calls and other shit from very medieval flick, he finished; "For your obedience you shall be _greatly_ rewarded. Now, go forth! From this day until your last, I am your king!"

I simply nodded, my knee starting to hurt from where it was pressed into the cold floor. I hurriedly turned and headed to get out to find somewhere to watch the next group.

"Call in the small council!" His order followed me out of the hall like a shroud.

* * *

I had managed to find a way up to the gallery overlooking the throne room below so I squirrelled myself away out of sight, leaving my shoes on the floor next to the great doors to not attract any attention from the sound. _Admittedly, I did have to sneak past guards and upstairs, all whilst humming the Mission Impossible theme._

As Ned, Petyr, Varys and drew closer to the throne, accompanied by a crew of randos, someone began to announce; "All hail his Grace; Joffrey of Houses Baratheon and Lannister, first of his name. King of the Andals and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm."

Finally, they reached the throne and Ned's cane stopped banging on the floor.

"I command the council to make all necessary arrangements for my coronation. I wish to be crowned within the fortnight." Joffrey declared, "Today, I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councillors."

_You need more than councillors, you need a padded cell._

No one moved. It began to get awkward very quickly.

"Ser Barristan," Ned called out. "I believe no man here could ever question your honour." He holds something out for Ser Barristan who takes it before returning to his post.

If I peek any further to see what it is, I'll blow my cover.

"It's King Robert's seal. Unbroken," he declares before reading out; "Lord Eddard Stark is herein named Protector of the realm; to rule as regent until the heir come of age."

"Let me see that letter, Ser Barristan." Cersei would not take no for an answer and after a few seconds I heard her echo, "Protector of the realm?" Her voice became steel, hardening against the simpering sweetness it had been before as she asked, "Is this mean to be your shield Lord Stark? A piece of paper?" The sound of paper ripping filled the room.

Aghast, Ser Barristan pointed out, "Those were the King's words!"

"We have a new king now." _Damn, Cersei._  "Lord Eddard, when we last spoke, you offered me some counsel. Allow me to return the courtesy. Bend the knee, my Lord. Bend the knee and swear loyalty to  _my_ son and we shall allow you to live out your days in the grey waste you call home."

"Your son has no claim to the throne."

I lay down face first on the floor, bite my tongue and try to stop myself slamming my head into the floor or screaming at his stupidity.

"LIAR!"

_Here we go, call the drama channels..._

"You condemn yourself with your own mouth, Lord Stark." I don't even need to see the bitch to see her smirk. "Ser Barristan, seize this traitor!"

"Ser Barristan is a good man, a loyal man, do him no harm!" Ned ordered.

"You think he stands alone?" Cersei asked.

Rising up, I peeked over the edge to see multiple swords, including Sandor's, drawn and a fight ready to begin.

"KILL HIM! KILL ALL OF THEM! I DEMAND IT!"

_Padded cell is not enough, put him down for his own good and send him back from whence he came._

"Commander, take the queen and her children into custody! Escort them back to their apartments and keep them there under guard." The men of the watch got into formation and Ned stated, "I want no bloodshed. Tell your men to lay down their swords. No one needs to die."

A few tense seconds crawled by before the captain shouted; "NOW!"

The fight quickly began and the Gold cloaks turned on Ned and co. Varys had slipped out of the room somehow.

Over the din, I barely heard Littlefinger say, a knife to Ned's throat, "I did warn you not to trust me."

I barely managed to hold in the urge to leap over the balcony and tackle Littlefinger so instead I hiked up my skirts and ran to protect the girls, as Ned wanted me to do.

* * *

My bare feet slapped painfully against the floor but I didn't stop until I ran into the room Arya was in, practising in the Tower of the Hand.

"Arya!" I leaned against a pillar, catching my breath.

_I need a better exercise regime._

"Y/N?" Arya hid her fake wooden sword behind her back. Poorly. "Why are you here? You're disturbing my lesson-"

"No time we need to-" I cut myself off and run to behind the two, hiding next to the archway, away from the window, at the sound of heavy clanking armour.

"Arya Stark, come with us," the first one ordered. "Your father wants to see you."

Syrio blocked her from going to them as he inquired, "And why is it that Lord Eddard is sending Lannister men in place of his own? I am wondering-"

"Mind your place, dancing master. This is no concern of yours."

"My father wouldn't send you." She drew her fake wooden sword and stood next to her teacher. "And I don't have to go with you if I don't want."

(Insert evil laugh here). The first gold cloak ordered to the others; "Take her."

"Are you men or snakes that you would threaten a child?"

"Get out of my way, little man."

" _I_ am Syrio Forel-"

"Foreign bastard," spat the man. _Racism, classy._  He then proceeded to draw his sword and attack him

After he owned the fucker, Syrio declared, "-and you will be speaking to me with more respect."

"Kill the Braavosi. Bring the girl."  _Can he not say anything in longer sentences? Is his brain just not up to speed?_

The three others, protecting the final boss, drew their swords.

"Arya, child, we are done dancing for the day. Run to your father."

They attacked all at once but Syrio managed to wipe the floor with them.

"Bloody oafs." _Of course short sentences is still standing._

"Begone now Arya."

"Come with me. Run!" Arya pleaded, backing away from the body-strewn floor.

"The First Sword of Braavos does not run."

The overly armoured man attacked.

He fought bravely but soon Syrio's wooden sword snapped in half on the guy's helmet. As he gazed upon his enemy, he said, "What do we say to the God of Death?"

"Not today," Arya replied.

"Go," Syrio simply ordered.

Arya ran over to me and tugged me out of the rooms and down a set of stairs.

As we charged down the stairs, Arya's grip on me like iron, she kept c chanting; "Not today."

* * *

We had raced, hand in hand through various courtyards, stairways and rooms until we had reached the stables.

Bodies littered the ground around the horse and cart as we emerged.

I cringed.

_I have just stepped in horse shit with my bare foot and there's no cure for syphilis here. Arya's lost her dancing teacher and has to run away. We're both having a bad day._

Placing a gentle hand on Arya's shoulder, I began, "Arya-"

"Wolf girl," a voice behind us called. A pudgy peasant boy walked towards Arya.

"What do you want?"

"Want you wolf-"

"You're a bit young for that, aren't you?"

They both ignored me.

"Leave me be. My Father's a Lord and he'll reward you."

"She'll reward me. The Queen-"

She leapt up, drawing her sword and driving it into the boy before I could move.

Turning to me, Arya begged, "Please come with me. You saw him. More are going to come. We need to run!"

I held her by her shoulders and looked at her properly. "No. You need to. I need to get Sansa. Your father wanted me to protect you both." Unattaching the coin pouch off of my leg, I gave it to her. "Here, it's all I have. Take it. Use it to hide. Use it to survive and escape. Go back home." The necklace Ned gave me felt too heavy on me so I lifted it off of my neck, where it had been hidden by the necklace the bastard King had given me, and put it on Arya. "Don't ever forget who you are, Arya Stark. If it gets tough, remember; if they talk shit, they get hit. Now go."

Off she went, scampering off through the streets with her little sword at her side and disappeared out of sight.

* * *

Finally, I had cleaned my foot off with a small pond in the gardens.

_Memo to me; Don't go swimming._

"Oh fuck!" I had crashed into Sandor's armoured chest. "You scared the living daylights out of me-"

"Quiet!" He hissed at me. Whipping his head around, he tugged me into an alcove off of the main path, hidden by the bushes and asked, "Why were you spying on the throne room?"

"You're hurting me! Let go! I don't have time for this! I need to find Sansa-"

"Too late for that. She's with the Queen as we speak," he admitted before barking at me, "Now answer me."

Squirming out of his grip, I glared at him and fumed, "Why? So you can kill me like you killed Stark men? Don't even try to deny it! I saw you! I saw you fight those men. I didn't know them but I have to assume that they were... honourable."

"Honour is what got them killed."

"No duh! But still-"

"Still what?" I didn't reply. "You better hope that no one saw you slip in and out. Good thing I recognised your shoes and size from when I had to get you some."

I was speechless.

Sandor drew a small beige bottle from his armour and gave it to me. "Nightshade. Got if from the Maester, thought you may need it for the future. One drop in wine is all you need to get to sleep. Use it and go. Now!"

Before I left, I threw my arms around his middle. "I'm sorry. I'm still angry but I'm sorry."

* * *

I found myself in the Tower of the Hand's chambers and came across the body of Syrio Forel, skewered like something for the barbecue.

I walked carefully along the sides of the crime scene.

On the table that the family must have eaten at hours before, I snatched a pitcher of red wine and a goblet and brought them with me to the first room I found.

It must have been Arya's as bare as it was because it lacked the soft pinks of Sansa and the heavy over-macho fur of Ned.

I slid the shoes under the bed and sat on top of it. Pouring out one drop, I let it dangle on my finger before dropping it into the cup of wine, draining it all in one and settling against the bed like Fiona waiting for Shrek.

* * *

Something is pressed into my back... Better not be Shrek or Donkey.

Sitting up, I can feel a breeze licking my skin and behind me scratching and howling as if the wind itself was in the room.

Fortunately, it's just a dog.

"Is that a dagger in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Jon doesn't reply so I hit him... to wake him up. "Jon! Wake up! Your dog's going ballistic."

Groggily he sat up. Jerking away from me, he rubbed his eyes to clear them and looked over at Ghost scratching the door frantically.

"Ghost, what's wrong? Is someone out there?"

"...You do get that dogs don't talk right? No matter what the furries want to believe."

Jon stood and grabbed his sword and belt from the end of the bed and opened the door for the Direwolf.

We both followed him out side and into the night, down multiple creaking stairways with Jon's hand on my hip to steady me.

I barely stopped my teeth chattering as my toes squidged the snow under foot, feeling like I'd stepped in really cold dog shit rather than being an Ice Queen.

"Just in case," Jon whispered, passing a small dagger to me.

I nodded, holding it in my dominant hand.

Jon opened the door and let us into what I now recognise as the Lord Commander's chambers.

"Hello?" Jon spoke into the empty room as we passed through it, approaching an ajar door. "Who's there?"

As we stepped through, Jon spoke once more. "Lord Commander?"

"...Maybe we should go? He could just be having a little alone time. You know, if the bed's a-rocking, don't come-"

The door slammed shut behind us, separating us from Ghost .

"Oh fuck!"

Something human shaped had grabbed Jon and slammed him by the neck into a wall, holding him by the throat.

Ghost barked and howled, scratching at the door behind us.

I slammed my dagger into the thing's neck repeatedly as Jon stabbed him in the thigh until he could break out of the hold and slide out of his grip, twirling away as he drew his sword. 

I picked up Jon's dropped dagger and held both aimed at the stranger.

Meanwhile, Jon had managed to grab the guy's arm and with one foul swoop, he cut it off.

It didn't begin to spurt blood everywhere.

I looked at Jon helplessly, meeting his gaze over the thing's shoulder as he stated, "This... This isn't normal."

Forgetting about the threat turning towards me I shouted at him, "You just cut his arm off and he's not bleeding like that guy from the Monty Python skit. Chances are, he's not normal!"

The thing roared at me, grabbing my neck and slamming me against a wall.

"J-Jon," I choked out as I drove the daggers into it's chest.

It dropped me to the floor, backing away. It didn't move fast enough because Jon soon caught up and drove his sword through it's heart.

Finally, it dropped to the floor.

I would have kicked it in it's ugly mug if it weren't for four things.

One, I was worried it was still alive and would gnaw my foot off. Two, I'm not wearing any shoes. Three, I was still getting up as I was struggling to breathe like an asthmatic amateur porn-star who lied on her CV. Four, the Lord Commander came in with a lantern.

"Snow!"

"Commander!" Jon helped me up and we ran over to him.

Ghost began barking once more and we all watched the thing stand up.

It ripped the sword from it's chest and if I had been fed, I probably would have shit myself. Instead, I shouted, "Jon, throw the lantern! Molotov the fucker!"

He complied, roaring in pain at the fire burning it's hand, but he complied. The thing set alight and we were pushed out by Jon.

* * *

We had barely got out of the Lord Commander's chambers when I began to sway uneasily.

Finally the cold had got to me and I collapsed to my knees with the snow biting at my skin, the only warmth coming from Jon as he screamed at me and shook me as I drifted off.


	21. Oakenshield and the Second Verse (Chapter 20)

I woke up to someone chattering aimlessly near me.

"They found you half frozen. Half frozen! Can you imagine?"

I didn't respond, still too relaxed in the hot both despite having all of my bits on show and someone shaving my legs and scratching through my hair.

I was helped out of the bath, wrapped in something that must serve as a towel but clearly wasn't as it felt like sandpaper on my bits as they shimmied me in it, before having that taken away.

Given a set of medieval underthings that even my dead ancestors would find ridiculous, more like puffy shorts, I slipped into them and let the women get to work.

* * *

"My lady, you look-"

"Like I've gone through Hell, dragged ass over tit through the woods and dressed like an troll bride?"

The dress was a simple black floor length gown with full length sleeves and off the shoulders, revealing cleavage from the push-up corset. The cloak he passed me covered that up and the slip on silver shoes, matching the moonstone earrings, necklace and ring. The silver hair comb in my hair kept it up and away from my face.

"-I was going to say beautiful but now I sort of see it." He held out his arm, which I took, and flashed me his Disney prince smile. "May I escort you?"

"Sure. Let's go."

* * *

The evening seemed to be going quite well. I was sat across from Bran and not really talking to anyone, just eating and drinking.

_Best. Dinner Ever._

Until someone decided to ruin it.

A man at the end of the table began shouting, "For 30 years I've been making corpses out of men, boy." Robb stiffened and not in the fun way, at least not visibly to me. " _I'm_ the man you want leading the vanguard."

"Galbart Glover will lead the van."

"The bloody Wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover. I  _will_ lead the van or I will take my men and march them home."

"You are welcome to do so, Lord Umber." "And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back North, root you out of your keep and hang you for an oathbreaker."

"Oathbreaker, is it? I'm to be slurred at by you? The boy who consorts with non-Northern women despite being promised. She's as-"

" _She_ is Y/N L/N. The Woman in the Sky and a ward of the North, under  _my_ protection."

"Regardless of whoever you claim her to be, I'll not sit here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass."

Theon leapt up, a hand to the sword on his waist.

Grey Wind launched himself across the table, scattering everything in his path as he charged at the man with a snarl. He pounced on the man's out-stretched hand and ripped into him, causing Lord Glover to cry out in agony.

We all stood, trying to see over the end of the table.

He finally stopped squirming on the floor and began to stand.

"My Father taught me it was death to bare steel against your liege lord."

Lord Umber huffed as he straightened himself, cradling his maimed hand in his other.

"But doubtless, the Greatjon only meant to cut my meat for me."

Like a child having a tantrum the 'Greatjon' (only great Jon I know is the one who may have taken Viagra before bed to stay warm at the Wall), kicked away his stool. In a rage, he roared, "Your meat..."

We all waited with baited breath, some more than others with their hands on their swords.

"...Is bloody tough," he finished before chortling, showcasing his hand minus some fingers.

Slowly, everyone else, except Bran, began laughing to ease the tension.

* * *

Robb stood from the table, addressing his absence.

When he passes by me to leave, I grab him by the sleeve.

Instead of attempting to suck his dick or other sports, I tried to inform him, "Your sisters..."

"Not. Now. I need to say goodbye to Bran." He shrugs out of my grip and leaves.

So I let him go, sitting in place and waiting for him to get back and deciding to entertain myself with the ale.

* * *

"Is it true?" Someone finally asked, a noble presumably, as the lesser Lords had left the hall to saddle their horses. "Are you she?"

"Who?" I repeated absently, not actually paying attention to anything more than how much I had seemed to have drunk and fuck me my head feels heavy...

"The Woman in the Sky."

"My Father believed it. As did my Mother. I've seen it myself how she disappears," Robb answered for me. "That is a matter for a later time my Lords. For now, we go to war."

* * *

I was sat on Robb's horse now, in front of him like that hunting trip but it feels different sat against his cold armour. My slippers were swapped with boots so they don't slip off.

Despite the cold, I snuggled deep within his cloak and using mine as a blanket mostly until I felt my eyelids grow heavy.

* * *

I woke up to being shoved out of bed and pulled up, a group of girls tittering in the background.

_Fuck. My. Life._

* * *

It wasn't actually so bad once I had woken up a little bit because the girls had only escorted Margaery here and I'd been fed, given a drink, dressed and was now sat on a stool before a looking glass and my hair was being brushed by Margaery as she chatted like we were old friends or even sisters rather than talking only a few times.

She had talked to me about the fashion (turquoise was the newer trend in the reach, rather than the traditional green), music (a bard from the Summer Islands was making quite a bit of money singing a song about traitorous wolves), gossip ("one of the guards was seen with another - how scandalous") and even simple stuff like the weather.

Right now, the topic seemed to be Margaery's brother Willas.

"Of course, his scholarly nature does make it hard to marry the heir of Highgarden off..." She locked eyes with me in the mirror before she speculated, "If _only_ you had a title or were of a great house, then Willas could marry you."

"Why would Willas want to marry me?"

Margaery gave me a pointed look. A look that stated that I was an idiot ignoring the obvious.

"Speaking of marriage, my grandmother has a betrothal in the works for me."

"Congrats...?"

"I suppose," Margaery began. "It was bound to happen sooner rather than later. I thought it would have been someone more... Never mind."

Margaery placed the brush down and began to braid my hair.

"Go on." She clearly has more to say so she might as well.

_Please just be something dumb like do you think my arse looks big in this?_

She hesitated, dropping her voice as she asked, "...If I shared something with you, would you be willing to be my confidante? Your advice before eased my mind so much that I was able to feel much calmer when morning came."

 _Oh no, All Star._ "...Sure as long as it's not going to get me stabbed in the cooch."

She giggled. "Oh, Y/N, you're so wild."

"I wasn't joking."

"Well, my possible betrothed seems to have a certain... interest. How should I go about 

I take a deep breath, screwing my courage to the sticking place and begin in a wise, mature and reflective tone revealing my years of knowledge, "It's a cool place and they say it gets colder."

"Is that because of the Starks?" Putting on a Sean Bean voice, she screws up her nose and declares, "Winter is coming."

"You're bundled up now, wait 'til you get older-"

"You mean I should prepare myself for the future?"

 _Why is this continuing to work?_ "But the meteor men beg to differ, judging by the hole in the satellite picture. The ice we skate is getting pretty thin. The water's getting warm so you might as well swim." Margaery looked deep in thought as she finished the braid, tying it off with a small leather band. "My world's on fire, how about yours? That's the way I like it and I never get bored."

"You _are_ the Stormbringer. Of course you wouldn't get bored getting to live such an adventurous life. Perhaps it is best if I heed your wise counsel. If I wish to further myself in life, I must choose the steadiest course, regardless of how cold my marriage may be."

"Thats-"

Her stoic demeanour changed and she led me by the arm out of the room. "Now, come, Grandmother has prepared a private luncheon for us to share."

* * *

After an agonisingly slow walk along an almost familiar path, Margaery began to slow to stop.

Sat in a larger pavilion than last time, was Willas but this time accompanied by his grandmother and lots and lots of food~

Instead of asking a nearby servant, Olenna turned to her grandson who was reading a book and ordered whilst pretending to ask, "Would you pass the cheese platter, Will, dear-"

With a heavy sigh, not placing his book down, he replied, "My name is Willas, Grandmother. That is the name my parents chose for me-"

She snorted. "Your oaf of a father wanted to name you after himself. You should thank the Seven that you weren't named after a weapon the man has never used except to shove it up his-"

"Grandmother!" Margaery interrupted, bringing attention to us.

"Oh, Margaery dear, and you have brought our guest."

"Lady Tyrell," I greet. I let go of Margaery's arm and curtsy.

Another servant appeared from nowhere and pulled out two chairs, one next to each member of the meal already.

"Well, you've finally learned some manners." She leant onto her palm, her elbow resting on the table. "What's changed?"

"Oh, you know, the same old. Seeing a lot of death, people preparing for war, the same old."

"Oh yes, I've heard about that upcoming war. The green boy marching against the Old Lion. I can not wait to see the odds." "But why should we talk about ghastly details such as that when you stand here before us once more looking like a true flower ripe for the picking."

"Thank you, Lady Tyrell." I curtsy once more.  _Polite manners will get me food._

"Please, take a seat."

Apparently during our conversation, Margaery had slid into the seat next to her grandmother leaving me the seat next to Willas.

"Does she not look appealing Will?" Margaery asked as I began to walk towards him, the slit in my emerald green wrap dress showing off the long heeled gladiator sandal.

Willas finally placed his book down, looking at me. His mouth fell open before he replied, a rosy blush blooming on his pale face, "Y-Yes, I suppose."

I sat down, letting a servant push me in.

"Grandmother, Will gave a single rose to Y/N the first time they met," Margaery informed her grandmother, a small smirk forming before she turned to me and asked, "What colour was it again, Y/N?"

"Margaery." Willas' tone had a warning to it.

I answered, trying to recall, "A light purple-"

"Lavender?" Olenna input, an odd look on her face as if she was trying to analyse something.

I shrugged. "I suppose..."

The women looked at each other before eyeing me up approvingly.

"Grandmother, sister, please," Willas hissed.

"Perhaps you should take our guest somewhere else. Margaery and I have much to discuss."

"Would you like to take a turn about the gardens, my lady?" He stood, groaning as he did and having a cane handed to him.

"Uh... Sure?" I accepted and stood, taking his hand and being led away from the creepily grinning women.

* * *

We hadn't walked that far, simply moving to another much smaller pavilion that was the one Willas and I had met in.

With food on the table.

"My lady-"

"You can call me Y/N, you know."

"Y/N, I would like to give you these." From the seat next to him, he gives me two flowers.

Their stems are entwined. Two roses entwined; one red as blood and one white. Like something from the Queen of Heart's garden.

"Thank you, these are beautiful."

"Do you know what they mean?" His eyes were eager and full of something foreign.

"Flower language? Not really."

"Well, I'll have to lend you a book on the subject some time." An easy smile graces his face, his eyes almost hidden from me now as his white-blonde hair fell over them.

I give him a smile in return. "I'd like that."

* * *

Willas and I must have been talking for hours, eating and drinking as we did, as the sky darkened and an escort brought us back into the main building.

Willas had pulled my hand to his lips gently and laid a kiss upon it before walking away.

I had been brought into Olenna's study, it seemed, as the woman sat behind a large desk.

"Y/N, let me be frank with you dear. You're not suitable to marry my son and I doubt you ever will be."

"...Okay?"

"Are you not disappointed?" Olenna opened her mouth as if she had more to say but I was quicker.

"Not really. No offence but your son and I have only talked twice. Sure he's given me flowers but still..." I shrug as I trail off, not knowing what else to say. I take the roses, still entwined, off of my lap and place them on Olenna's desk. "Those were flowers he gave me. Now if you don't mind, I'm off to go have a nap. Good day, Lady Tyrell. I wish you well."

* * *

Joffrey looked puzzled when I walked in, having found myself waking in his massive bed, and was staring intensely at a map stretched over a table.

"So what are you working on?"

"My first laws and tributes as King to loyal subjects."

"Why is it difficult?"

"There is nothing to work with. For starters; Harrenhal, the ancient seat. It's crumbling to shit now." He pointed to a spot on the map. "Has to be given as it's a strategic hold-"

"-So give it to someone who is completely loyal to the cause because if they betray you, you could be in for it."

_Reverse psychology. Please!_

"Secondly, there is the Nameless Keep-"

"The Nameless keep?" I echoed, looking at the spot on the map. It was between Highgarden, to the left of the river, below Goldengrove and to below the Red Lake and covering a lot of land near Oakenshield.

_Mmm... If Thorin Oakenshield were here... I wouldn't be able to climb him like a tree but I could get a leg over at least._

"Surprisingly well kept actually. Father took us there on a detour when we went up North. A small staff keeps it. It has mines rumoured to be down there and the name could be changed. Apparently, it's only for 'the right' person. I say that's superstitious nonsense. Wouldn't you agree?"

"...Sure."

He glanced at me oddly for a second before asking, "If you were to have a house, what would be your sigil?"

"What is this? A Buzzfeed quiz?" When he kept watching me, I relented and answered, "A silver snake on a field of green." _I'm not very imaginative but fuck it. I can't be sued. Creative commons._

"Would this great noble House of yours also have a name?"

"Slytherin."  _Could have been Phantomhive but there are no demons except the ones in my head - Now I'm just being edgy._

"...Excuse me for a second my lady." He took my hand and laid a kiss upon it. "Make yourself at home in my absence."

* * *

So I did.

I had begun to drink my way through three of his decanters of wine. I'd eaten some grapes. I had found his crossbow, shot a bolt into the boar head when something nearly. made me jump out of my skin.

"My father took me only once hunting that I can remember," Joffrey spoke suddenly from behind me, a smirk on his face as he was leaned against. "I was maybe 10 and 1? Truth be told I wasn't a very good shot and didn't have the strength to heft a war-hammer. So..." He walked over to the table, lifting the mechanical weapon out of my hands. "I had this created. Do you know what this is? I wouldn't expect you to, we don't really have these-"

"A crossbow."

"You know about these?" He jabbered, a wide grin on his face. He looks so young it's almost wrong to think about pushing him out of the windows and letting someone else take the blame.

"Yeah, we have these in my world. They're alright. Slower re-load than a gun but more precision than a bow and arrow. More power as well because of the mechanics."

The conversation had hit a lull and so we sat back down by the table.

We drank for the rest of the evening with me listening vaguely to Joffrey talk about his 'father' and his plans for the kingdom after his coronation and his horrible sports.

* * *

I had woken up sprawled out on the floor with dust in my mouth by Dothraki and heavy footsteps.

Crawling to see what was going on, I waited.

Before me/thing blocking me from view, were multiple Dothraki warriors and 

" _Moon of my life. Mago blah blah taken blah blah daughter of a blah man blah blah mount. Tell me the truth of this,"_ Drogo demanded from atop his makeshift throne decorated with decapitated heads.

_"Mago speaks the truth, my sun and stars. I have blah many daughters this day blah blah no be mounted."_

I need more Dothraki lessons.

They continue talking in Dothraki but mental translation is tiring so I sit in the dirt and look out at the burning landscape, pillaged and oh look a man being murdered.

I'm drawn from my thoughts when someone spits on the ground.

"Y/N?" Daenerys whispers, watching me stand behind her husband and hurry over to where she is being pulled away by Jorah.

Mago has drawn an arakh and is pointing it at the still reclining Khal.

Someone attempts to strike him but is ordered away by the smirking Khal.

Deciding this is going to be good, I attempt to translate. The gist of it seemed to be; your body isn't going to get burned. No honour for you.

_Well done over-grown Mushu. Or is that your wife-_

Mago had cut into Drogo's massive tit-like pec but the only thing that came out was blood not milk.

Drogo walked into the blade more before dodging the first strike of his opponent.

He dodged under the swings whipping his hair like Willow Smith before he put enough space between them to raise his blades of his belt whilst shouting.

More swooping and dodging occurred until Mago had his arakh at Drogo's throat.

Just when I thought Drogo was going to die, he swiped one blade through the guy's neck. He then grabbed something in his throat and ripped it out, revealing the guy's tongue and all that was attached.

Overkill much.

Showing it off to the crowd, he marched around before throwing it on the pile of heads and sitting on his throne.

Daenerys ran over to her husband, kneeling before him. 

"A scratch? Nah, dude that is so much worse. If it's too deep it could cause an infection. Summary; that needs to be looked at."

The crowd looked at Drogo's wound.

"By a doctor?" I looked at them all incredulously. "There's stupid and then there's Joey Essex stupid. Hint; you're all the latter." At their blank look I sighed. "He didn't know what country bordered Wales."

"I don't know-" Jorah began.

"Exactly."

One of the women in the crowd spoke up, obviously with the intention to help.

Daenerys barked at the one guy who held a blade to her.

"Thank you, Silver Lady."

"Who are you?"

"I am named Mirri Maz Duur and I was the godswife of this temple-"

" _Magi-"_

"You have magic?" The woman nodded. "That's so cool! Would you be willing to teach me-" The glare she gave me was one of not now but later. The almost pasty Dothraki gave me the glare of 'shut up or die'.

"My mother was the godswife before me. She taught me how to make healing smokes and ointments. All men are one flock, as my people believe." As stated by the giant Ram. "The Great Sheppard sent me-" She was slapped by the Dothraki nameless guy.

"Lamb or lion-" Why is she looking at me now? "-His wound must be washed and sewn or it will fester."

_Fun._


	22. YouTube Twats and For Fuck's Sake (Chapter 21)

Dothraki lessons with Jorah the Explorer turned out to be my consolation prize because I wasn't allowed entry to budget Hogwarts lessons because Daenerys said so and another dude had a sword bigger than any dick I'm ever going to allow near my vag so I let it go.

_Could have squared up if I had a sword that over-compensated but I don't so there we go._

To be fair, he had taught me some useful shit but it's hot as balls in here, a tent we had moved to, and I'm going to drown in my own sweat if this carries on. Besides, I'm getting tired of learning. It's like being trapped at school again.

So I have decided to play the game every child knows.

"-An insult you may hear is _'Ifas maisi yeri'_ meaning _'_ go walk with your mother'."

"Why is that an insult?"

"To tell someone of the Khalasar to walk alongside their mother takes away from their status-"

"Why?"

"The Dothraki are Horse lords-" Jorah began to inform me.

"Why?" I repeated, interrupting him.

"They are known as such because they have such a unique bond with their horses it is said that they are born, fight, and die in the saddle-"

"Why?"

He look thoughtful yet hesitant as he answered, "...I suppose it links back to the belief that a Khal who cannot ride can not lead."

"Why?"

Before he could answer, Irri poked her head into the "Khaleesi wishes to speak with you, Jorah the Andal."

He stood up, bowed his head to me and sped the fuck out of the tent.

I slipped under the covers of the bed-thing we had been sat on and let the heat lead me away.

* * *

Groggily, I tried to sat up to find I was already leaned against a tower of cushions.

"We did wonder if you were gonna wake up," the knight who had saved Tyrion murmured, his eyes on the 'game'.

The two held a burning candle between their forearms like a pair of YouTube twats.

"Are you in agony, my Lion?" A dark haired, fair woman with a heavy accent asked.

"No." Tyrion's face was scrunched like tissue paper as he said it.

"You look like you are in agony. Fire is burning your pretty soft skin."

Finally, Tyrion conceded, pulling away with a sharp "ow" and letting the burning candle fall to the floor where the three, probably really pissed, started laughing.

_Fuck if I want to survive this evening I better start drinking more._

"Damn you woman. Are you immune to pain."

"No, just used to it."

"Drink," the knight ordered as he passed a golden cup to Tyrion, filling one for me as well and ordering once more, "Drink."

"Oh! Y/N, you're awake now you can play a new game."

"There's a Braavosi knife game I could teach ya," Bronn stated as he took the wine pitcher and stood up, walking over to a table and swapping it.

"Does it involve the potential for losing fingers?" Tyrion asked.

The knight chewed on a grape before he said, "...Not if you win."

" _No_. No fire games. No knife games. Let's do something  _I'm_ good at."

"What are you good at?" the foreign stranger asked, dressed in a shirt too small to actually be hers, before she took a drink.

I followed suit.

Tyrion looked mock-hurt as he stated, " _I_ happen to be a great judge of character."

"Sounds like a boring game," the knight commented as he sat down next to me once more.

"It's not. Here's how it works; I make a statement about your past. If I'm right, you drink. If I'm wrong, you drink. And no lying, I'll know if you're lying."

_Fucking hell, is my cup empty already?_

Before I could reach for the pitcher, the knight was filling it for me.

"I'm not going to play."

"I don't want to play this game." The foreign woman and I said simultaneously.

"Fine," Tyrion conceded, turning to the knight. "Bronn first."

Bronn, what kind of a fucking name is Bronn, shuffled in his seat, causing him to sit closer to me, as Tyrion stared deep into his eyes.

"Your father beat you," Tyrion stated.

Bronn took a sip as Tyrion gestured to his lady friend. "But my Mother hit harder."

Tyrion chuckled a little before attempting once more, "You killed your first man before you were twelve."

"It was a woman." Tyrion took a swig. I apparently didn't look impressed so he explained, "She swung an axe at me."

"You've been North of the Wall."

I snorted. I was also ignored.

Bronn pouted, nodding as he did before taking another sip.

"What brought you up there?" the foreign woman asked.

"Work," he replied simply.

"And-" Tyrion began, drawing attention back to him. My cup was empty again. His tone was serious as he stated, "You once loved a woman many years ago but it turned out badly so you've never let yourself love again." His face dropped as he admitted, "Oh, wait, that's me."

I drained my cup again. Maybe I should just drown myself in it.

"Your turn, my mysterious foreign beauty."

"I don't want to play."

"It's _fun."_ Tyrion waved a hand between Bronn and him. "Look at all the fun we're having." He seems to really want to be sweet- "Your mother was a whore."

"Don't be a cunt," I said.

"Drink," she ordered.

The two men looked generally shocked as Tyrion took a drink with a narrowed gaze.

"Your father left the family when you were very young, never to return."

"Drink," she repeated.

"We've established the rules about lying-"

"Oi, lie detector, chill out."

"Drink," she insisted. He complied.

"Hmm... You wanted a different life. You came from somewhere and you wanted to be elsewhere."

"The whole shit-stained world could drink off of that one," Bronn commented.

"So specifics then... You wanted to be elsewhere but how would you get there? Don't believe the life of the silent sisters is for you so what's a lowborn girl to do?"

She raised the cup to her lips before turning it to Tyrion.

"Are you sure-"

"Drink," she insisted. "And don't ever talk about my mother or father ever or I will carve your eyes from your head."

"My dear lady, if I have offended you I apologise."

An awkward silence fell amongst the group before she declared, "My turn."

"Fine, fine," Tyrion conceded, "Ask away. Try to penetrate the enigma that is me~"

"Who were you in love with?" she asked abruptly.

Tyrion looked genuinely disgruntled. "That's not how the game works!"

"I don't care the way the game works."

"Our Lord here used to be married," Bronn decided to add.

The foreigner shot him an incredulous look.

"How did you hear that?" Tyrion queried.

"You hear lots of things playing dice with Lannister soldiers."

"Another night perhaps." Tyrion stood shakily and made to wobble past us. He would have got away if the foreigner hadn't grabbed his arm.

"Not another night. This night."

"It's not a pleasant story."

"If he doesn't want to-" I begin.

"Or maybe I will cry." _What the fuck?_

"I'm guessing the ladies and I can tell more unpleasant stories than your lordship," Bronn said, helping me shuffle so I was laid against him because honest to God my body is beginning to swing.

"So..." Tyrion began, leaning against the tent pole and sliding down it, not looking us in the eye. "I was sixteen. My brother Jaime and I were riding when we heard a scream. She ran out onto the road, clothes half torn off with two men on her heels. Jaime scared away the men easily enough while I wrapped her in my cloak. She was too scared to send off on her own so while Jaime hunted down the rapers, I took her to the nearest inn and fed her. Her name was Tysha. She was an  orphaned wheelwright's daughter and she was hungry. Together we finished off three chickens and a flagon of wine. Impossible as it seems, there was a time when I was unaccustomed to wine. I forgot how afraid I was around girls. How I was always waiting for them to laugh at me or look away embarrassed or ask me about my tall, handsome brother. I forgot about everything but Tysha and somehow I found myself in her bed."

"For three chickens I should hope so." I slapped Bronn's arm hard enough to make him pull it away.

Tyrion let out a small laugh before continuing, "Didn't last long. I didn't know what the hell I was doing. But she was good to me. She kissed me afterwards and sang me a song and by morning I was deep enough in love to ask for her hand. A few lies, a few gold coins, one drunken septon and we were man and wife... For a fortnight anyway before the septon sobered up and told my father."

"Well... I imagine that was the end of all that," Bronn affirmed.

"Not quite. First my father had my brother tell me the truth. The girl was a whore you see. Jaime had arranged the whole thing." Tyrion voice began to break as tears appeared in his eyes as he gazed into the depths of the background. "The road, the rapers, all of it. He thought it was time I had a woman. After my brother confessed, my father brought in my wife and gave her to his guards. He paid her well. A silver for each man. How many whores command that kind of price? He brought me into the barracks and made me watch. By the end, she had so much silver that the coins were slipping through her fingers and rolling onto the floor."

"I would have killed the man who did that to me," Bronn stated.

"You should have known she was a whore."  _Right, this bitch is already getting on my nerves._

"Really? I was ten and six, drunk and in love."

"A girl who was almost raped does not invite another man into her bed two hours later."

He gazed mournfully at her. "As I said, I was young and stupid."

"You are still young and stupid." She then proceeded to straddle him.

So Tyrion intended to fuck away the pain.

Bronn and I were off, as he supported my by swinging an arm over my shoulders and helping me walk out of the tent into the not cold, but definitely had a breeze to it, night.

"So..." I began.

"I'm Bronn, by the way."

"Y/N L/N. Do they have a pub 'round here?"

"...No but I have some wine in my tent, just next door."

"Alright, but we're not fucking."

* * *

Soon I woke up and my head was throbbing more from what felt like heatstroke than actual hangover.

Daenerys, minus the tan now, offered the witch, "Save him and I will free you, I swear it."

"There is a spell. Some would say death is cleaner."

"Do it. Save him," Daenerys ordered,

"There is a price."  _All magic comes with a price, creepy Rumpel was right._

"Gold, whatever you want."

"It's not a matter of Gold. This is blood magic. Only death pays for life."

" _My_ death?"

"No. Not your death Khalessi." Mirri Maz Duur looked thoughtful before she ordered, "Bring me his horse."

A girl ran off to fetch it.

The witch turned to me. "Come, child. You wished for me to teach you. Allow me to teach you as the Great Sheppard wishes."

* * *

In the hour it took for the horse to be brought in, she had taught me a lot of stuff that despite barely hearing, I knew I would take to the nursing home. Something about her made each word stick to me.

The horse was brought in, a great stallion in a shade of brown so dark it could have been black. He bucked in the reined hold of the two Dothraki men as the witch had me grab certain ingredients, crush them and place them into a bowl which she lit on fire, holding a knife's blade in the fire.

"Khaleesi! Do not do this thing. Let me kill this witch!"

"Kill her and you kill your Khal."

"This is blood magic," the Dothraki man said as the witch cut her thumb and dragged it over her forehead like Simba. She reached over to me, grabbed my hand and cut my thumb on the knife gesturing me to do the same. "It is forbidden."

"I am your Khalessi. I tell you what is forbidden."

The witch began to speak in a foreign tongue, standing and taking the bowl and dagger as she moved over to the horse. She grabbed the rein closest to it's nose and ordered, "Go now."

A girl left with the 'It is forbidden' twat.

"Once I begin to sing, no one must enter the tent. The dead will dance here tonight."

"But Y/N-" Daenerys protested.

"She is protected by the Great Sheppard as marked by her own sacrifice. She may stay."

Daenerys took one last glance at her husband and placed a kiss on her husband's brow. "No one will enter."

A nod was all Daenerys got before the witch began to speak again, raising the dagger to the stallion's throat and cutting it, spraying blood everywhere and drenching me who was standing nearby like I was Carrie and it was my prom night.

"Bring him back to me," Daenerys commanded before she left the tent, slightly splattered with blood.

I listened to the witch singing, watching as the horse fell to the ground and twitched. The men let go and hurried out, leaving me with her.

As she had commanded earlier, I began to hum along with her, sat besides the Khal's body as I watched something begin to bubble from the horse, small patches of darkness bleeding from him.

I was so concentrated on the sight as the tent began to grow darker, something swirling in the air and turning everything cold that I barely noticed time passing until I heard a scream from outside.

_Focus..._

A fierce wind began to howl, blocking everything around me but carrying a simple message to me, "The witch. She can bring baby."

_Focus...._

I squeezed my eyes tight, feeling suffocated as things danced on my skin and the witch's feral gaze bore down on me with a wicked grin.

When I began to hear footsteps, I kept my eyes closed but shouted out, "JORAH! Don't bring her inside this tent! Please! The witch said not to!"

As he walked further towards the tent, not listening, his footsteps growing louder, I felt my limbs grow heavy and suddenly the floor was rushing up to meet me.

* * *

"The king has his first true court session today!" I heard around me as someone rubbed a cloth against my forehead, cleaning the blood off of me after I had been washed and dried.

_Another bath. In medieval standards this must make me a bigger pimp than Littleprick._

I had been dressed in a yellow gown with some detailing but no real jewellery.

"Would you like your hair in the Southron style?"

"No thanks. Also thank you for doing this."

"N-No?" Their splutters followed me out of the room where I was greeted by a squire who made me follow him.

* * *

The Maester stood on one of the lower steps of the stand where the Iron Throne stood. With a long scroll in his hands he read out a lot of shit about ceremonies and royal events. Finally, he began to draw my attention when he stated;

"It is the wish of his Majesty the King to bestow the rank of Lady, creating a new noble house, to Y/N L/N; the Stormbringer."

Whispers rose around the room, casting glances at me, a sea of people I would never know but would probably want to know me now.

"Lady Y/N L/N of House Slytherin!" Joffrey called just as I turned my foot to hurry out.

Barely managing to smooth my face from a grimace, I greeted, "Your majesty." I curtsied low.

"I also wish to bestow upon you the Nameless Keep."

"An honour, your Majesty." I stepped away and stood in the crowd, feeling it part around me until I was in a little bubble of isolation.

"It is also the wish that his loyal servant, Janos Slynt, commander of the City Watch, be at once raised to the rank of Lord and granted the ancient seat of Harrenhal, and that his sons and grandsons shall hold this honour after him until the end of time."

One of the armoured men who had turned on Joffrey bowed before him silently and left.

"In the place of the traitor, Eddard Stark, it is the wish of his Grace that Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, be appointed Hand of the King. Lastly, in these times of treason and turmoil, it is the view of council that the life and safety of King Joffrey be of paramount importance." Pycelle rolled up his scroll.

"Ser Barristan Selmy," Cersei addressed as she stood from her chair.

From the line of gold cloaks, he stepped out of it and turned towards the woman. He bent down on one knee. "Your Grace. I am yours to command."

"Rise, Ser Barristan. You may remove your helm." He complied to her orders. Cersei gently began, "You have served the realm long and faithfully. Every man, woman and child in the Seven Kingdoms owes you thanks. It is time to put aside your armour and your sword, it is time to rest, and look back with pride on your many years of service."

Whispers, louder than when I had been made a Lady, echoed around the room as the shock appeared on the knight's face.

"Your Grace, the Kingsguard is a sworn brotherhood. Our vows are taken for life! Only death relieves us of our sacred trust-"

"Whose death? Ser Barristan, yours or your kings?"

Joffrey decided to put his two cents in as he spat, "You let my father die! You're too old to protect anybody."

"Your Grace-"

"The council has determined that Ser Jaime Lannister will take your place as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."  _Yeah, 'cause you're fucking him._

 _"_ A man who profaned his blade with the blood of the king he swore an oath to defend-"

"Careful, sir!" Cersei warned.

"We have nothing but gratitude for your long service, good Ser," Varys began. "You shall be given a stout keep beside the sea with servants to look after your every need."

Ser Barristan retorted, "A hall to die in and men to bury me."

Whispers once more arose in the hall, especially when he threw an arm over his shoulder and unlatched his cloak declaring, "I am a knight! I shall die a knight!" He tossed his cloak and helm to the ground, throwing his gloves afterwards.

"A naked knight, apparently" Littlefucker quipped because he's a cunt who held a fucking-

A mocking laugh filled the hall until Ser Barristan drew his sword, holding it at the King. The kingsguard all drew their own.

"Even now," he declared, "I could cut through the five of you like carving a cake!" Tossing his sword before him, making Joffrey jump, he shouted, "Here boy, melt it down and add it to the others."

He turned on his heel and walked out.

_That, my friends, is how you quit like a boss._

An idea struck me so I hurriedly followed him out.

* * *

Once he began to walk somewhere secluded, I called out, alerting him to my presence, "Ser Barristan!"

"I have no time for..." His snarling face dropped as soon as he saw me before he hurried to bend the knee. "My lady."

"Please get up. I have a job offer for you and I wish to talk as the equals we are." "Serve me as a bodyguard. Well, not me, I need you to serve a friend of mine and I'm willing to pay quite handsomely."

"This friend of yours..."

"He has a bit of a temper but he's no Robert and he's definitely no Joffrey." When he still hesitated, "What is it that you want?"

"I live to serve, my lady-"

"Then serve me. You know who they say I am?"

"The Stormbringer. You are a Goddess in the eyes of the people of the Stormland. My people. I grew up on stories of your valour and wisdom. Your might. Your prowess in battle. It is a great honour to be in your presence." He got down on one knee again, slowly and clearly pained as his face scrunched up.

Fuck me with a pineapple from under the sea, Varys has a lot of explaining to do.

Maintaining the facade of a stone cold bitch, I helped him stand back up before finishing, "So when I offer you this, I don't offer it lightly. This may be your hardest task. You may have to defend against assassains, the Dothraki and many more to keep this man safe from others and himself."

"If I may, your Ladyship, who is this man?"

I smirk slightly. "Viserys of the House Targaryen."

* * *

After seeing Ser Barristan off, detailing where he would find the guy, nothing could ruin my day as I strolled back into the throne room.

Sansa was on her knees on the floor, head bowed, before Joffrey's smug grin as he declared;

"...Or there will be no mercy for him."

_FUCK THIS SHIT_


	23. End of Season One and Oh, What Fun (Chapter 22)

When I wake up, I've been dressed in simple clothes made for the heat the Dothraki ride in. A simple top that wraps around my neck, a skirt, some gladiator leather sandals and a draping of cloth meant to protect my face from the sun. I'm also pressed against the side of another person.

From the flash of the hair I see, I thank the Gods it's not Viserys.

Sitting up slowly, I gaze at Daenerys' face.

Her brow is furrowed in her sleep as she twitches, eyes red and puffy.

I look around the room for a cot or a basket or even just the baby but there's nothing at all. Except for Jorah being a fucking creep who seems to be watching her sleep as he polishes his metal sword which is not a prosthetic penis.

"Ser Jorah," Daenerys faintly addresses. Jorah falls to his knee at her side as she begins to sit up which I attempt to help with by supporting her shoulders.

"My son. Where is he? I want him?" She looks almost as sick as Jorah does. When he doesn't answer, she insists, "Where is he?"

"The boy did not live," Jorah gravely delivers.

She pulls her hand out of his grasp, only for him to take it back again. "Tell me-"

"What is there to tell?"

I stare at him incredulously as Daenerys rightfully shouts in his stupid face, "HOW DID MY SON DIE?" She ends in a sob and I place a soothing arm on her hair, beginning to stroke it.

"He never lived, my princess. The women say..."

"What did the women say?"

He hesitates before replying, "They say the child was-"

"Monstrous," Mirri Maz Duur cuts in as she strolls into the tent. "Twisted. I pulled him out myself. He was scaled like a lizard, blind with leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him the skin fell from his bones. Inside, he was full of grave worms." When Jorah turned on her, she softened her tone. "I warned you that only death can pay for life. You knew the price."

"Where is Khal Drogo?" Daenerys finally managed to ask as I held her back because she was too weak to fuck the bitch up. "Show him to me. Show me what I bought with my son's life!"

"As you command, Lady." Her eyes flicked to me before she said, "Come, I will take you to him."

When Daenerys made to move, Jorah pushed her back. "Time enough for that later."

"I want to see him now!" Daenerys glared at him until he withdrew, allowing me to help her up and support her weight as we left the tent to follow the witch.

Not far from camp we stopped and behind a large boulder, overlooking the vast plains of the desert, laid Khal Drogo. He was far too pale and his gaze unfocused.

Daenerys ran to his side, clutching his face. "Drogo.  _My sun and stars._ Why is he out here alone?"

"He seems to like the warmth, Princess."

Daenerys kissed him deeply and when he had no reaction, I finally knew what she had bought. It wasn't what she asked for but the devil is in the details.

"He lives," the witch spoke, confirming my thoughts, "You asked for life. You paid for life."

"This is not life," Daenerys spat at her. "When will he be as he was?"

"When the sun rises in the West, sets in the East. When the seas go dry, when the mountains blow in the wind like leaves," Mirri Maz Duur states before she leaves us with the body and sits looking out at the nothingness.

"Leave us," Daenerys commands.

"You shouldn't-" Jorah places a hand on her to stop her.

"I have nothing more to fear from this woman. Go." She grabs my hand and marches us over to her to confront her.

"You knew what I was buying and you knew the price."

"Was wrong of them to burn my temple. It angered the Great Sheppard-" The witch attempts to justify.

"This is not God's work. My child was innocent!" Her grip on my left hand begins to tighten.

"Innocent?" The witch echoes, mockingly. "He would have been the Stallion who mounts the World. Now he will burn no cities. Now his khalasar will trample no nations into dust."

"I spoke for you. I _saved_ you."

The witch scoffed. "Save me? Three of those riders had already raped me before you saved me, girl." She stands up. "I saw my God's house burn, there where I had healed men and women beyond counting. In the streets, I saw piles of heads; the head of the baker who makes my bread, the head of young boy that I cured of fever just three moons past. So, tell me again exactly what it was that you saved."

"Your life."

The witch scoffed again. "Why don't you take a look at your Khal? Then you will exactly what life is worth when all the rest has gone."

* * *

Later that night, I can tell the witch's words have got to her (no shit) as she carries a small pot of water to her husband's tent.

I stop her gently when we reach the opening because I don't want to smell the body and I certainly don't want to see it.

"Y/N?"

"Hear me out quick; your husband is basically dead so he might as well become it."

"Excuse me?"

"Keep your voice down and let me finish. Your husband is laying in that bed on the brink of death. His people are leaving him and his memory is tarnished. I know you don't want to lose him like..." I sigh, letting go of her. "Dany, think it through. This isn't a good life for him. He's going to suffer through this trapped. Let him go." I kiss her cheek and head for a bed.

I collapse upon it when I find an empty one because it's been a long day.

* * *

When I wake up, this time it's to a flash of thunder and a door slamming open.

Sitting up, I realise I'm in Shireen's room again as Lady bounds over to me and curls up on me.

"You're the Stormbringer!" Shireen gasps out. "I knew it! Well, maybe not last time but I guessed! The gift of Visenya, the blanket, the storms when you arrive, your presence! It all makes sense!"

As she babbles on, I absently stroke Lady's fur. Finally, I ask, "What exactly is the Stormbringer to your people, Shireen?"

Gazing up at the ceiling, sitting down next to my legs, she recites, "The Stormbringer, also known as the Woman of the Sea or other names, is the patron to the people of the Stormlands. She is the spirit of those who fight for her lands, the blessing of victory goes to her and if she so demanded, the Gods would be forsaken for she is the truth-"

"Wow." It's all I can muster which cuts her off and with a gasp, she leaps up.

"I must tell Father!"

"No!" I flail uselessly, pinned by Nymeria/Lady who has leaned onto my chest. "Shireen I don't know who your father is but I need you to keep this a secret. Please."

"Anything for you, Stormbringer."

I cringe. "Don't call me that. Please, just call me Y/N."

"Of course..."

After that little bit of tension, she passes me one of her many books, asking if I can read. When I reply positively, she smiles widely at me and we read together until I pass out.

* * *

I wake in one of the streets, woken by someone kicking me.

"Where's everyone going?" I shout into the almost fleeing mass if not for the gleeful shouts.

"The Sept of Baelor! Stark may lose his head!"

That makes me stand up quickly, pulling the shawl thing over my head to hide my face and hurry after the crowd.

* * *

Is that... Arya?

Hurriedly, I get through the crowd and climb up the statue next to her but she's too focused so I try to hiss at her.

The crowd roars as Ned appears, dragged by two guards, so she doesn't hear me.

He's lead through the crowd, catching my eye and gazing at Arya, as he's brought to the steps of the Sept.

On a lower step, in full sight of both his daughters and the smirking Littlepenis and King Incest, Ned is left to stand before Sandor. 

"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King," he states as the crowd dies down. I can see him gulp and twitch, turning to Joffrey before turning back and continuing shakily, gaze on the ground as he lies, "I come before you to confess my treason in the sights of Gods and men. I betrayed the faith of my King and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to my friend to protect and defend his children but before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son and seize the throne for myself." To the cries of traitor, a stone was thrown at his head. Sandor righted him as his bound arms wouldn't allow him to do it. 

Arya reached for the sword on her belt but I placed a hand on her shoulder, not looking at her anymore.

"Let the High Septon, Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say. Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne. By the grace of all the Gods, Lord of all the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm."

Arya moves against my side and I place a hand against her head, the other keeping me steady on the statue.

"As we sin, so do we suffer," Pycelle began to announce, "This man has confessed his crimes in sight of Gods and Men. The Gods are just! Beloved Baelor taught us that we can also be merciful. What is to be done with this traitor, Your Grace?" He asked Joffrey who had a wide grin on his face.

_Brat._

After calming down the crowd with a simple raised palm, he began, "My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch - stripped of all titles and power as he would serve the realm in permanent exile and my Lady Sansa... has begged mercy for her father." When Sansa began to smile and Joffrey began to drop his, I dragged Arya towards me and made her look away. "But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I'm your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Illyn! Bring me his head!"

The crowd roared once more as Joffrey's mother and Sansa begged him not to do it, tugging on his sleeve. Sansa was restrained by a Kingsguard and I watched the scene in horror.

_It's going to be fine. He'll just do a flip and fuck them up. Cause an explosion because cool guys don't look at explosions. Ned's the hero. Well, he's as much a hero as this fucking place is going to get-_

I'm proven wrong when the blade is swung down into his neck, sending his head tumbling to the ground with a sick thud.

 _"_ Sean Bean, why?" The words slipped from my lips as I tightened my hold on Arya to me, similar to how I had held Sansa at the tourney.

My shoulder grows wet as Arya sobs against me. She slides something into the tight cleavage concealer/retainer of my top, stopping the familiar shape of my phone from slipping and crashing on the floor.

_I can celebrate later._

She rubs her eyes and soon, Arya slips out of my grasp, slinking away like the cats she used to chase and lands on the ground next to someone in all black like the Night's Watch. He says something to her, pulling her over his shoulder and beginning to carry her like a sack of potatoes.

On the stage, Sansa falls to the ground unconscious.

The cheers of the crowd menacingly echoing in my ears as they never stop, I gaze at the blood trail on the ground. Looking up to see if Ned's body is gone, I lock eyes with Sandor. He grimaces at me, shifting his head to point at a small alcove nearer the stage that probably leads into the massive building.

I shake my head, leaping off the statue and swimming through the ground after Arya.

It's so hot pressed between these filthy, sweaty bodies as if I'm being squashed to death in a mosh pit. I can barely breathe before someone presses up against me again, roaring in my ears almost

Still, I'm focused and begin shoving my way through the crowd in a hurry to get to Arya. Even when people try to physically block me or grab me to slow me down I wrench out of their grasp, even going so far as to lash out and leap over their fallen but conscious bodies in my chase. That's all I can focus on even as my legs beg for me to stop, I follow the dark cloaked stranger. I follow him because there's nothing I can do for Sansa right now but I can still help Arya.

Finally I catch up to him, pinning Arya against a wall in a small alcove. I creep down the steps, listening to Arya's cries of not being a boy as he holds the knife near her face, cutting her hair and leaving it in a puddle on the floor. Launching myself at him, I attempt to tackle him by grabbing onto his hair.

For my efforts, I'm slapped across the face so hard that I'm sent sprawling into the dust, my arm crashing against the stairs.

The stranger picks Arya up again and hurries away into the shadows.

Before I can get up and hurry after her, the dizziness won't stop me despite the fact I can barely feel my arm that I landed on, clunking behind me alerts me to another's presence and I'm grabbed.

* * *

"LET ME GO! GET OFF ME! I'LL HAVE YOUR GUTS FOR GARTERS MATE! 1 V 1 ME MATE!" I scream myself hoarse as I'm carried, kicking and hitting, over the guy's shoulder with his armour poking into the skin.

I barely register the winding pathways and halls, even as the overly large and familiar doors close behind us. A heavy crowd parts around us but I don't tame myself. I simply lash out.

I'm thrown to the ground unceremoniously and feel my arm protest once more as something seems to crunch and it may just be my phone or it's broken. Especially when the guard steps on it as he passes me to kneel before King Joffrey; king of the cunts.

"His highness the King has ordered your retrieval for your violence before the Sept of Baelor today. Do you deny these crimes?"

I don't reply, clutching onto my wounded arm, biting hard enough onto my lip it begins to bleed, dripping down my chin. I won't let these fuckers hear me scream. I can't. I won't allow it.

"I've just had a man's tongue ripped from him for saying or rather singing the wrong things. You're not speaking at all so I wonder what I'll do with you. I would like to retire early today. You are my last issue before I pass power over to my Mother. Now, speak, peasant. Your King commands it," Joffrey orders. Once more I don't comply. "Guard, tear down her hood."

When one of them steps forward and does so, the small crowd gathered gasps. Even Cersei's eyebrow lifts.

"M-My lady, what has happened-" Someone stammers out but I'm too busy focusing on the copper welling up like I've been sucking on old pennies and wiring.

I spit the bloody mouthful onto the ground before me and glare up at him. It's the closest I could get to a fuck you or middle finger without letting the pain out or moving my arms.

I don't get my tongue ripped from me. Instead, the world rushes around me and soon someone helps me up and I'm carried out of the room, on the verge of passing out.

* * *

Pycelle with his stupid fucking beard tends to me with "the best treatment for the Stormbringer". Bollocks, he's sat in a chair next to me, occasionally writing stuff down and after fixing my arm, which I'm kind of grateful for, he attempted to feed me but I wouldn't open my mouth.

"Your arm may not be broken but it does seem to be fractured. I suggest you drink this Milk of the Poppy and see how you are. More will be easy for you to access, my lady Slytherin." He tilts a small goblet so I can view the milky contents in my propped up position in the Maester's office that could only be matched by the nurse's office at my school. "Milk of the Poppy is a powerful medicine for pain relief. I don't suggest more than half a cup a day if not every two days based on your disposition. Now, I will leave you for the King to see to you."

I don't reply. I have nothing to say to the man who stood by and let Ned die twice but... I'm not better than him either.

Joffrey enters my line of sight, sitting down in the seat Pycelle vacated. I didn't say anything to his expectant gaze, simply ignoring him as I stared at the ceiling. "I am having that guard tortured as we speak, my lady."

I didn't reply.

Finally he snapped, not at me as I expected him to but in mood, as he asked, "Are you _upset_ with me? Is that it? I never knew you to be so close with the Starks but then again, Lady Sansa always did speak about how her sister revered you. Perhaps she was jealous. She should be." He strokes my hair and if I wasn't wrapped tight, warned not to move for fear of further damage to my arm, I would launch myself at him. "If you're this upset, depriving me of your words, I'll have to make it up to you with a present or two. But... Now I must go see my Lady Sansa. I have _something_ to show her." A malicious grin spreads across his face as he says it before becoming softer as he lifts my head and pours the thick-ish white liquid down my throat whilst he's still clothed. I feel him press a kiss to my forehead as I drink it down greedily, letting it take me away like Zydrate that's been pressed up against my anatomy.

* * *

I wake sprawled in the dirt to the sun beginning to warm my skin as it lifts in the sky. Ash swirls in the breeze and I feel the earth is crumbled under me, slanting down slightly. Around me, the world is almost silent. 

Almost.

Rolling over, I look at the naked body of Daenerys sitting cross-legged with three dragons around her and no hair whilst she's covered in ash.

_Dragons. What the absolute fuck?_

And I'm out once more.

* * *

Once again, I wake up re-dressed. This time, I'm wearing practical flat leather boots, a thick dark grey woollen dress with long thick sleeves and a cloak. I search my cleavage to find little scratches. Looking at the table beside me, I discover my smashed phone.

Before I can whine at my misfortune, Catelyn comes in and hurries me out into the dark night, dressed very similarly.

* * *

I'm seated quickly at a table inside some hallowed hall, lit by torches and the candles on the table. Robb is sat on my right on a large picnic table, Theon opposite us.

"Robb, your Father-" I attempt quietly when everyone else is distracted with an argument that seems ongoing.

"I know." He takes my hand in his larger gloved one and squeezes it under the table before retaining his gentle but firm hold and placing our joined hands on his knee.

Finally, the noise dims and one man speaks up, standing and walking around the table, "The proper course is to swear fealty to King Renly and move South to join our forces with his."

"Renly is not the king," Robb stated, turning in his seat, dropping my hand and turning to face the man.

"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my Lord. He put your Father to death!"

Robb takes a deep breath, his leg pressing against mine with a swipe, in an attempt to keep his cool as he counters, "That doesn't make Renly king. He's Robert's youngest brother and Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me. Renly can't be king before Stannis."

"Do you mean to declare us for Stannis Baratheon?" The man spits.

"Really, is that right?" Someone else pipes up, causing the rest to start.

Lord Umber stands, marching over to stand before the crowd as he begins, "My lords. My lords! Here is what I say to these two kings!" He literally spits on the ground. "Renly Baratheon is  _nothing_ to me nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the war on the Wolfswood? Even their gods are wrong! Her name is wrong!" He points at me and I bow my head to avoid the laughter around me. "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the Dragons we bowed to and now the Dragons are dead!" He draws his sword and points it at Robb. "There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee to! The King in the North!" He kneels.

Robb stands proudly before his people.

"I'll have peace on those terms," inputs a Northern Lord. "They can keep their red castle and their iron chair too! The King in the North!" He also draws his sword and kneels beside Lord Umber.

Theon stands and asks, "Am I your brother now and always?"

"Now and always," Robb repeats. Theon draws his sword and kneels before him, next to the others, declaring, "My sword is yours, in victory and defeat from this day until my last day."

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!" Lord Umber calls once more and it's repeated by every Northerner there who raises their sword and kneels, chanting the title like a prayer. Only Catelyn and I watch on worriedly.

Catelyn gives him a faint smile when he looks her way but I can't stomach it to do that. "I'm not bowing. No offence but I feel like this is your Mother's," I whisper to him

He grins his beautiful grin at me once more.


	24. Dick Sandwiches (Chapter 23)

I throw a rock and it hits against the Lord Commander's side. He winces but shifts his gaze quickly to look at me.

Excusing himself, probably explaining he needs to take a piss, he makes his way over with a bundle.

"What are you doing here? In  _that?"_  Jeor doesn't give me enough time to answer. "Never mind. Here-" he threw a bundle of clothes at me. "You're lucky one of ours lost their life on the way here. Don't mind the bloodstains and bind yourself well. You're riding with Snow."

_Yippee. Sore nipples for me._

* * *

Once I'm dressed, Jeor turned away to piss, he ruffles my hair and tucks in the ends under my cloak. Grabbing my wrist, he marches me back to camp.

"Snow!" Jeor calls, catching the attention of about 20 of the men. "Jon!" He calls again, letting the others get back to their business.

Jon guides his horse towards us as he's on foot. "Yes, Lord Commander."

"The _inspector_ ," he says this loud enough to catch everyone's attention. "Will be riding with you. Get him seated."

Jeor marches away to his own horse and suddenly everyone is getting on their horses.

"So, Inspector..." Jon starts, uneasily. Ghost doesn't give a fuck as he launches himself at me, nearly pushing me to lie in the snow.

_Jeez, this is why I have candidates for the bromance._

"What up, Jon!" I greet.

_Seeing Jon makes me feel better about the whole... Oh._

His eyes widen in shock as he whispers, "Y/N?"

"Did you forget little ol' dick already?" I reward Ghost for his loyalty by scratching behind his ears. "Ghost hasn't."

"It's just... odd." Jon grabs my hips and helps me into the saddle before settling himself behind me. Grabbing the reins, he drives us forward with Ghost at our heels.

"So, what have you been up to?"

"I was named a steward for the Lord Commander and after  _that night,_ he rewarded me with the Mormont sword but changed the pommel to a white wolf." Jon flashes it at me and I have to bite back a snigger at the situation.  _Jorah's got daddy issues, who knew?_  "You?"

"Jon, I have to tell you something. It's about Ned-"

"I know." His arms lock tighter around my body and we ride in silence for a while until he begins to slow down spotting someone off the side of the path.

"Having a rough time of it?" Jon asks Sam who is standing next to a sled of some kind.

"Nothings killed me yet!"

"Your ass killed the sledge," states another guy.

"You offered me a ride," retorted Sam. Jon rolled his eyes and got the horse to move again away from the squabbling boys.

Jon stops the horse a few metres away and gets off, lifting me off as well before blushing and letting go. He grabs the reins of the horse and begins to lead us forward so I keep close by his side.

Before us is a kind of wooden house, covered in snow, that is surrounded by the Nights watch but also animals, dead and alive, and women.

Jon too seems confused, big shock, as he stops the horse once more.

"Was born in a place like this."

"JESUS FUCK!" I screech, nearly jumping out of my skin. Turning around, I see it's Ed who spoke. "Don't do that to me."

He ignores me. "Later, I fell on hard times."

"Are those girls?" Sam asks, falling into step with us and glancing around the women.

_Fool of a took._

"Craster's daughters," Ed informs him.

"I haven't seen a girl in six months." Jon shoots me a look when Sam says it.

"I would keep on not seeing them if I were you," someone else warns. "He don't like people messing with his daughters."

"He don't like people messing with his wives," Ed replies.  _Fuck this is some Hillbilly shit._  "He marries his daughters and they give him more daughters and on and on it goes."

"What kind of fuckery is this?"

Finally the guy I don't know looks at me and asks, "Who's this?"

"I'm the Inspector but you can call me Dick."

"You look like a girl. Well, you would if you weren't standing next to Snow. I'm Pip."

_Jon is my Morty and I'm Rick... Dick Sandwiches, new codename!_

"All the other wildlings within a hundred leagues have disappeared. Craster's still here. He must be doing something right," Ed states as he leaves our little boyband.

"...What happens to the boys?" Jon asks.

"Hmm?" Sam takes his attention off of the fully-clothed girls and looks at Jon.

"He marries his daughters, what does he do with his sons?"

_Hopefully he doesn't go Eddie Gluskin on them, or do to him what was done to young Eddie._

Jon presses onto my shoulder and urges me forwards.

* * *

"What's that one doing here?" The old fucker who I don't recognise presumably Caster, points at me as I enter with Jon.

"I'm just here to sex it up a little."

**SMACK**

"OW!" Jon had just hit me in the head.

Jeor closed his eyes as if I was some annoying kid he had to babysit (kinda true) and stated, "This is the inspector from King's Landing. His job is to report back to the King and see about more money."

"Well hopefully he can get more of this wine. You Southerners make good wine."

"We're not Southerners," Jon retorts.

"Who's this little girl? You're prettier than half my daughters," he leers at Jon who steps before me, holding an arm to keep me from lunging around. "You got a nice wet twat between your legs? What's your name?"

"Jon Snow."

"Well listen to me,  _bastard,_ all of you lot are from South of the Wall. You're Southerners but now you're in the North. The real North." He turns to Jeor and warns, "If I catch that pretty little bastard talking to my daughters-"

"No one will talk to your daughters. You have my word," Jeor replies. Locking eyes with Jon, he softly orders, "Now sit down and shut your mouth. Both of you."

We go to sit down, I'm herded by Jon, to a space far enough away from Craster as he sits with his hand on his sword.

"Bring any of that good wine with you?"

"We did. We passed through six whole villages on the way here and all six were abandoned. Where have all the wildlings gone?"

Craster sips his drink again, his face illuminated under his chin by the fire, as he replies, "I could tell you but I'm thirsty."

Jeor orders on of the men, "There's a barrel of Dornish wine. Bring it in here."

"You want to know where they've all gone? North! To join up with Mance Rayder." I stiffen at the name and hope no one notices. "Your old friend."

"He's no friend of mine," Jeor informs him. "He broke his vows, betrayed his brothers-"

"Oh, aye. But once he was just a poor black crow and now he's King Beyond the Wall."

Jeor rolls his eyes. "He's been calling himself that for  _years._ What's he king of? A frozen lake somewhere."

"That's a good-looking axe." He pointed to the weapon of the man sitting next to Jeor.

He gestured for it and once it was passed over, he gave it to Craster, stating, "You'll have another one made at Castle Black."

Craster swing the axe into the ground, testing it's strength. "You want to know what Mance Rayder is doing? Gathering an army. From what I hear, he has more men than any of these Southern kings. He even talked to the Woman in the Sky."

This time, Jeor, Jon and I all stiffened but only Jeor asked, "And where does he plan marching this army?"

"When you're all the way North, there's only one direction to go."

"These are bad times to be living alone in the wild," Jeor stated off-topic. "The cold winds are rising."

"Let them come." Craster reached out to one of the girls, dragging her towards him as he commanded, "Wife, tell the Lord Crow how content we are."

As if reciting it, the young woman replied, "This is our place. Our husband keeps us safe. Better to live free than die a slave." She was then let go.

"Didn't mean to make you jealous, old man," Caster informed a disgusted Jeor. "You see me with all these young wives and you with no one to warm your bed."

"We chose different paths-"

"Oh, aye. You chose the path with no one but boys on it," Caster mockingly replied. Standing up, he said, "You'll be wanting to sleep beneath my roof, I suppose?"

"A roof would be welcome," Jeor accepted as he stood. "We brought our own food and good steel for you."

Caster twitched his jaw as he warned, "Any man lays a hand on one of my wives loses their hand and I see this one-" he gestured to Jon. "-staring too long, I might just gouge his eyes out."

"Your roof, your rules," Jeor conceded.

We all filed out after him, Jon hurrying me past Caster's creepy leer.

As soon as we got outside, Jeor grabbed Jon by the neck and pinned him against a tree, out of sight of the others. "WHO ARE YOU?"

"Jon Snow."

"Who are you?" Jeor repeated.

"Your steward."

"You want to lead one day?" Jon nodded in response. "Well learn how to follow" He released his neck and gestured me to follow him.

"Where are we going?" I asked as Jeor led me away.

"You're going to give me those clothes back and I've got a flagon of nightshade wine with your name on it, girl."

* * *

When I finally woke up, it was to my hair basically being ripped from my head with a brush. I jerked to find I had been in a seat, held by my binding being taken off, leaving me naked, and tying me to the chair, "I've been expecting you-"

In the looking glass, I gazed up at the fully dressed prostitute. "Jorlyn, what the fuck? You're full clothed, what happened?"

"I've been given a different job as an assistant to the princess' handmaidens. For some reason, she likes you and requested for you to be dressed for the tourney today."

I groan as Jorlyn teases my hair high into a bun with braids at the base. My make-up is non-existent.

"Now, let's get you dressed."

* * *

The theme seemed to be light pinks for everyone except mine had baby blue accents. The shoes I had left behind in Tyrion's carriage had been returned to me and used once more.

Jorlyn had escorted me to the higher balcony where the royal family were sat without Cersei - for once.

_Cannot deal with this fucking family but at least my arm is fixed now._

Down below, Sandor was fighting someone with a large pit for his opponent to fall into when he did.

My heels clicked up the steps, the gauzy blue covering my shoulders but light enough that I wasn't suffocated.

Tommen gasped upon seeing me, almost standing to greet me but Joffrey beat him to it. He took my hand, kissing it and declaring, "You have not been seen in two moons, my lady. I have prayed for your safe, healthy return."

I didn't need to reply because Joffrey's attention was caught by Sandor's last blow that sent the guy falling to his death if he hadn't been dead before.

Letting go of my hand, he hurried back over to his chair and crowed down, "Well struck dog!" Sandor took off his helm in response. Before Joffrey sat down, he turned to Sansa and asked, "Did you like that?"

"It was well struck, Your Grace," she echoed his earlier words. Only now did I notice the red marks upon her cheeks. 

"I already said it was well-struck."

"Yes, your Grace."

"And you, Lady Slytherin, what did you think?"

"Apologies, your Grace. I was distracted by you."

A smile blossomed on his face in response. He turned to watch the body being dragged away, sitting down. Upon spotting I had no chair, he ordered a nearby servant to fetch me one despite my protests.

"A free rider in the service of Lord Baelish," announced the referee/rando to the presence of the knight walking up to him and he gestured with his other one as he announced, "Ser Dontos the Red of House Holland."

No one came. Except for a servant with a chair who sat me between Tommen and Myrcella.

"SER DONTOS THE RED OF HOUSE HOLLARD!"

Finally, someone came clanking along towards the palanquin, shouting, "Here I am!" He dropped his helmet near us and his armour was badly fitting.  _Someone needs the breastplate stretcher._  "Sorry your grace, my deepest apologies," he apologised.

"Are you drunk?" Joffrey inquired.

"No," he stammered out.  _God this guy could relate to every meme about being fat, drunk and lazy. He's like a useless Hodor who can speak. "_ I had two cups of wine."

"Two cups? That's not much at all. Please, have another cup." Joffrey gestured to the wine before him with a malicious smirk, the same smirk he had before Ned's head was taken. I grabbed onto both Tommen's and Myrcella's hands out of instinct.

"Are you sure, your Grace?"

"Yes," Joffrey practically purred. "To celebrate my name day. Have two. Have as much as you like."

Heavy footsteps stopped behind me and flicking my gaze up and seeing Sandor made me a little less tense.

"I would be honoured, your Grace." Ser Dontos bowed.

"Ser Meryn, help Ser Dontos celebrate my nameday," he ordered. "See that he drinks his _fill_."

Both Meryn and another kingsguard grabbed him by the arms, dragging him over to the barrels of wine.

"Close your eyes. Now," I hissed at the two children. "And cover your eyes." They did as I asked but I couldn't, still watching in horror.

"Look away girl," Sandor spoke low enough so only I could hear but I couldn't take my eyes away.

Ser Dontos was forced to kneel. Ser Meryn grabbed his hair, pulling his head back and placing a horn funnel in his mouth before a barrel was upturned over him.

"You can't!" Sansa protested.

Joffrey's head snapped over to her. "What did you say? Did you say I can't?"

"I only meant... it would be bad luck to kill a man on your name day."

"What kind of stupid peasant superstition-"

"The girl is right. What a man sows on his name day, he reaps all year," Sandor stated. Judging by Sansa's grateful look, I could tell it was bullshit.

With a heavy sigh, Joffrey ordered, "Take him away. I'll have him killed tomorrow, the fool."

"He is. A fool, you're so clever to see it," Sansa complimented as the guy threw up everywhere. "He'll make a much better fool than a knight. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death."

"Did you hear my lady, Ser Dontos? From this day you'll be my new fool," commands Joffrey.

"Thank you your grace and you, my lady, thank you."

_Glad that bit of drama is over now we can just rel-_

"Beloved nephew!" From around the corner calls Tyrion, dressed in armour, followed by Bronn and other men I've never seen before. Once he comes closer, he states, "We looked for you on the battlefield and you were nowhere to be found." Tyrion helped himself to a goblet of wine.

"I've been here, ruling the kingdoms," Joffrey weakly replied.

"And what a  _fine_ job you've done." Tyrion turns to the royal children, taking Myrcella's hand as he gazes upon them fondly. "Look at you." He kissed Myrcella's cheek. "Beautiful as ever and you," he directs this at Tommen, "You're going to be bigger than the Hound but much better-looking." Gesturing to Sandor stood next to Bronn, he grins. "This one doesn't like me much."

"Can't imagine why," Bronn and I reply simultaneously. We grin at each other.

"And my lady, the Stormbringer. I've heard your new title is Slytherin," he simply states, swooping in to kiss my cheek as he whispers, "We'll speak later."

"We heard you were dead," Joffrey informs him, glaring at his uncle.

"I'm glad you're not dead," Myrcella sweetly inputs.

"Me too dear. Death is so boring, especially now with so much excitement in the world." He stands before Sansa and solemnly apologises, "My lady, I'm sorry for your loss."

Before Sansa can reply, Joffrey cuts in, "Her loss? Her father was a confessed traitor-"

"But still her father. Surely having so recently lost your own beloved father you can  _sympathise."_

Joffrey glared pointedly at Sansa who was swallowing deeply. Soon enough she opened her mouth and spoke in a recited fashion, "My father was a traitor. My mother and brother are traitors too. I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey."

Before I can leap out of my seat, Bronn has placed a hand on my shoulder and so has Sandor, pinning me down.

"Of course you are," Tyrion replies. He downs his cup before he announces, "Well, enjoy your nameday, your Grace. Wish I could stay and celebrate but there is work to be done." Then he's sauntering off with Bronn in tow.

"What work?" Joffrey asks. He gets no answer. "Why are you here?"

"The shade of it all," I mutter as I fan myself.

"Are you hot, my lady. Allow my servants to fan you."

I sigh.

_This is going to be a long day._

* * *

Sandor won again. Shocker.

This time, he was given a smaller ring of flowers that were more branches than flower as the small pink flowers barely covered the front.

"Here, dog, crown your queen of Love and Beauty before you can begin your day off." Joffrey smiles at me gently as he comments, "It would be a shame to dethrone a woman as lovely as the Stormbringer but-"

Sandor defies Joffrey in a small act of rebellion. He expected him to throw the flowers at some passerby but he took them and once again gave them to me, leaving us all in his wake.

Disgruntled, Joffrey sits there opening and closing his mouth for a few seconds before he declares, "This tourney is over."

As people begin to file out, the two younger royal children grab onto my arms.

"Please stay with us. Come to dinner or we could have an embroidery session together."

"Yes, please. Come see Ser Pounce."

The two are soon herded away by a Septa as Joffrey marches towards us, leaving Sansa to be led away by Meryn.

Before I can move to follow her, Joffrey is blocking my view, picking up the flowers gently and placing them on my head, around my bun. Holding a hand out, he helps me out of my chair and dismisses the two fanning people I was given. _I shall call them fannies._  "Come, I have much to show you before I retire for the evening meal with my family." Joffrey tugged on my hand, leading me through the Red Keep.

* * *

After passing over a dry moat and climbing a ludicrous amount of stairs, Joffrey stopped.

"Here we are," Joffrey announced. "This is Maegor's Holdfast. The royal apartments are here and now... so are yours." He pushed a door open and led me inside.

The room was extremely large for a main room and held five women dressed in the Slytherin colours.

"May I introduce your staff for your time here in King's Landing and should you choose to retire to your new home, they will accompany you as your ladies in waiting. These are my gifts to you as a present for your loyalty." Joffrey, as was custom by now, took my hand and placed a kiss against the back of my hand. "I must leave you now my lady. I bid you good night."

I watched Joffrey hurry out of the room before turning cautiously to the women who just watched.

"So... You all work for me?" I asked nervously.

The oldest one, not old enough to have more than a few grey hairs in her crimson locks, curtsied, "Yes, my lady, I am Emma Flowers. I have been assigned to your personal court to assist you in all of your daily affairs as your personal assistant. When you retire to the nameless keep which is now your primary estate, I will be at your side unless you choose not to have me." Her emerald eyes met mine as she smiled, her pale cheeks dimpling as she did so. Emma gestured to each girl as she introduced them;

To the tallest woman, second eldest, with maroon hair in a bun on top of her pinched face, Emma gestured. "This is Lorenah Stonetree. She will assist you in your studies."

The next woman had sand coloured skin and eyes the colour of the midday sun. Her night black locks were in a loose braid down her back. "This is Nym Sand. Her main duty is as your chief hand maiden; dressing you, escorting you when I am not there and etc."

The last two were identical. Their eyes were the same misty grey. Their hair was cropped short, revealing black velvet nubs on their beautiful night skin. "This is Sera and Alis Nalor. They are handmaidens who will attend to your every need including fetching water for your baths and keeping your rooms clean."

"I look forward to working with you all."  _Fuck, this is getting hard to keep track of._

"If you would like, I can show you around your rooms whilst the others begin their tasks and we wait for the tailor?" Emma inquires, suddenly taking my arm.

"Yes, please."

A smile is all she gives me before she starts barking orders at the other women, sending them almost scurrying away. "Then let us begin. This is your main sitting room. Here you will entertain guests and be available when not summoned outside if you have chosen to not appear at court. You may choose some furniture another time if you feel this room is not your standards, my lady."

The room is a massive rectangle with three doors leading out, ignoring the one behind me. Painted in the Slytherin colours, the room barely has any furniture other than a square dining table, three armchairs and a pouffe, and bare walls that are as dark as pitch but illuminated by the candles. The windows are covered in deep green curtains with silver embroidery.

Emma takes my arm and guides me to the door on the left. Opening it, she reveals a much smaller room. The walls are filled with empty shelves and a desk sits in the centre of the room. It's sleek with a dark mahogany finish, almost green in tint.

Closing the door, she takes me to the door on the far right. It's more barren than the first. "This is your personal wardrobe. Your clothes, jewels, cosmetics and other items will be in here."

The last door is opened revealing a large bed with green bed sheets and a thick mattress. It looks so comfortable but the shelves in this room as well as the 

"Where do you all sleep?" I inquire.

"The servants quarters are typically not here but as there were rooms available since the King's... The rooms have been split. My personal room as your assistant is only off the main room, hidden away by a divider."

A loud slam ripples through the room behind us and Emma sighs as the quick foreign language being spoken.

"That must be the tailor," Emma informs me and begins to lead me away.


	25. Karma For Being a Cunt (Chapter 24)

In the main sitting room stood an oddly dressed woman for Westeros anyway. In a simple white blouse and brown leather trousers with boots, the woman with midnight skin and a cloud of curls was a sight for sore eyes; the closest thing I have to home is a stranger. My life is fucking sad.

"This is the tailor; Jaslin Bole. She only works for what she classes as 'the elite'. If she is not to your liking, I will begin to search for another-"

"Oh there's no need for that. Look at you! A true woman! Rather than one of these simpering girls or a ragged crone! Thank the Seven!" Jaslin cried out, clasping my hands in hers and holding them like a prayer. The woman's hands then let go as they proceeded to trail down my body. "Curves and not just from saggy skin! A beautiful face and it's not pinched from that ludicrous hairstyle. Oh, the fun I can have with you~"

"Hey, you don't know me like that!"

Emma sighed looking far older than she actually was, "Madam, please don't be inappropriate with my lady."

"Of course I will respect Lady Slytherin and worship her glorious form~" The gleam in her eyes proved otherwise as she demanded, "Now, please undress."

"Eh?"

* * *

After being stripped, I was made to stand on a puffy stool and having someone stretch a 'measuring tape' over me. 

"So if I wanted something to do-"

"There are books we can source for you, my lady. Please tell me the subjects you're interested in and I will be able to find something suitable," Emma informed me from where she was stood with a piece of parchment and a quill, jotting things down.

"Okay, so flowers are cool. Um, maybe something to do with money. Oh, mythology. Need to understand this whole nonsense but, Emma, how the fuck are we making money?"

She blinked owlishly at me before asking, "Pardon, my lady, but what ever do you mean?"

"Well it's just that things cost money so... How are we going to afford all this?"

"Well the King is _graciously_ paying-"

I snort. "Gracious my arse. Okay, how would we go about getting some money for ourselves. Surely we'll need money in this war, right?"

"Yes, my lady. Well, the Reach is extremely fertile and your land produces some of the most fertile in the Reach-"

"Great, make money off that. Charge whoever it is that's getting our crops."

Once again, she blinked owlishly at me. "You wish to charge the Tyrells? And the Lannisters?"

I shrug, receiving a swat because I'm not staying still. "Sure. Anything else?"

"Well, I do believe we have some relatively small mines as we are so close to the Westerlands-"

"Open them up. Anything else?"

"We currently have no trade routes established, my lady. Perhaps we could begin trade with Oakenshield as they are not too far away from your Keep and there will be little disturbance."

"Excellent. Now, as for extra money, I'm about to blow your mind like I'm using my mouth. You ever heard of bubble bath or a pen?"

* * *

An hour later of being the biggest scammer since Lou went back to the future in Hot Tub Time Machine and made Lougle, I had begun to 'invent' so many things. Take that history. Also, my measurements were done and so I left Emma to deal with Joslin, who cried when I left, as I had received an invitation from Tyrion to see him in the Tower of the Hand.

Sat on one side of the table, Tyrion greeted me, "Y/N, thank you for agreeing to see me-"

"Cut the crap and don't phrase it like that. You make it sound like you're Trump or something and honestly the most Trump-like person could be your nephew."

"...As you may have gathered, I have been named Hand of the King in my father's absence."

I simply hummed to let him know I had heard, looking around at the floor that hadn't been cleaned properly as there were still blood stains from Syrio.

"As such, I need you, my dear friend's help. You see, I have a little _situation_ with trust at the moment. The last Hands have died in quick succession and I need a plan to decide who is trustworthy and who reports directly to me sister-"

"Lying works," I reply.

"-Without... Lying?"

"Yeah. That's just it. Lies are good fun but I'm fucking tired. I've just been measured and have done so much today..." I yawn, stretching wide enough to crack my back.

"Thank you for your help..."

"Literally did nothing but you're welcome. By the way, what's with the woman?" I ask.

"The woman... Oh, Shae. She's my..."

"Side chick? Dick wetter not bed wetter? Fuck buddy?" I helpfully give options.

Instead of replying, Tyrion draws a small vial from his doublet. Opening it, the nightshade drops are placed into my wine and Tyrion passes it over.

"What? Want to get rid of me so quickly?"

"It's not that it's just... I need to keep Shae a secret and I'm worried for her safety if too many people spot us together, my sister may try to use you-"

I snort in disdain. "The bitch can try. She'll get as much use out of me as a boy gets out of a full gym sock. Now, I'm going to go explore before I drug myself. Laters~"

I walk out of the room, taking the wine glass with me and decide to explore as I said.

* * *

In my exploration I've found one dude wanking, two people going at it (Pycelle's saggy testicle will forever haunt me in my nightmares), Joffrey debating where to decorate things (I left him, not in the mood to deal with his shit) and Baelish.

Currently, I was listening to him muttering to himself about Arya. Before I could do anything, the door creaked and he turned 

Fearing he had caught me, I hurried out of the room and down the stairs, fleeing as if the hounds of Hell were at my heels.

"Lady Slytherin!" Two children run up to me and grab onto my skirts, my hands full with my wine glass which almost sloshed over the floor with the shock I felt if I hadn't got a hand placed over the top.

"Hey Tommen, Myrcella. What are you guys doing up this late? Isn't it past your bedtimes?" The two look at each other guiltily. "It's fine, I'm not going to grass you up. So... What mischief are you two up to?"

"We're going to the kitchens to see Ser Pounce!"

"Why is Ser Pounce in the kitchen?" I ask.

"At the moment, Cook's hiding him from Joffrey and using him to catch mice. Please come with us!"

"Yes, please!" Myrcella begs.

I grin at them. "Let's go!"

* * *

The kitchens were warm and in a room as large as a house. Filled with bustling people, I felt like I should put my wine down but I was holding it in one hand and Tommen's in the other, Myrcella's arm linking with the one holding my wine.

We had skipped down here after I taught them 'We're off to see the wizard~" which took so fucking long.

They dragged me to a stout short red-headed person who was wearing trousers but I couldn't figure out their gender.

"This is Cook. Cook doesn't speak much," Tommen informs me before turning to them and asking, "Cook where's Ser Pounce?"

Cook points at a corner of the gigantic room which the children drag me to.

In the corner, behind a cabinet is a small gap. Tommen kneels down onto the surprisingly not dusty floor, puts his arms in and drags out the plump cat.

Tommen pats the ground next to him so I sit down on that side, Myrcella on the other.

Placing the wine behind me, I stroke the cat.

"See, he remembers you!"

_I sat down there with the children for an hour before Tommen declared it was Ser Pounce's bed time whilst yawning._

* * *

Already having given Tommen over to his septa, I took Myrcella over to her room and tucked her in.

"Will you be back soon?" She yawned.

"Hopefully. Now, go to sleep." I kiss her forehead and leave the room, taking my wine with me.

After escorting the children to their rooms, I felt warmer. I felt normal. There was no threat of war or promise of super powers I clearly did not fucking have nor any ideas of incest...

"My children-"

"FUCK!" I shriek, jumping back and tripping on nothing.  _Speak of the Devil._

Cersei looked unamused, quirking a dark eyebrow despite having , simply leaning against the wall outside Myrcella's room

"My children are precious. If you even think about harming them-"

I smack her hand off my shoulder. "Don't worry about it. They're good kids. Night," I hurry down to my room that I barely remember where it is.

* * *

"My lady!" Emma greets me as she had been showing Joslin out who bows before leaving without saying goodbye.

"Hey," I call back, brushing past them to step into the room.

"My lady, is something the matter?"

"Nah. Now, what's being going on since I went on my little adventure."

Emma nods in understanding. "Allow me to fetch you some parchment for your desk."

"Thank you!" I call after her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot one of the maids putting a small plate of food (cheeses, bread and grapes) on the writing desk. "Hey, you're Alis right?"

"That's Sera. I'm Alis," her sister corrects me as she places a goblet of water next to the plate.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's alright my lady. Sera doesn't speak at all ever since..." Looking at her face now I see the thin puckered scar down the side of Alis' face.

"Ever since?" I inquire.

"It's nothing my lady. We are extremely grateful for this job however. You saved us. Thank you." Tears form in her eyes as she speaks before she blinks them away.

"No problem? Are you sure you're okay?"

Before she can answer, Sera lifts her head and the two girls hurry away out of sight. Seconds later, Emma appears at my side.

"Shall we begin?" She gently places the paper onto the writing desk, pulling the chair out for me.

With a sigh, I place my wine down and slide into the seat.

* * *

Hours later, the candle on the desk had melted halfway down.

Emma covered another yawn, her red locks almost wild "That's all I believe my lady. Now, I will fetch Lorenah." She curtsies, bids me goodnight and leaves me on my own.

Stretching, I crack my back. I'm going to get serious back problems from this chair so I need to go to IKEA or something.

"Lorenah, right?"

"Indeed, my lady. I am here to teach you of your duties." Lorenah grabs a chair from the dining table and places it next to me, overlooking the piece of parchment I had been writing upon. She tsks before placing a book upon it. "Our first lesson will begin once you have read this book. Good night my lady." Then she leaves me.

So I pick up the book and begin to read, sipping at the water and eating every so often from the plate, swinging my legs up onto the chair next to me that's been abandoned.

* * *

 

Nothing. That's all I was faced with. No light. No ground. No air. I felt like I was floating yet deeply rooted. I was breathing yet suffocating. I was ascending yet falling. The air whipped around me, pulling from my lungs yet cocooned me and fed them greedily.

_Is this a dream?_

_**Have you had a dream since you came to this land?**_  A voice spoke. It was rough yet had hints of smoothness to it like the sea. Deep, masculine. Kind of sexy like Idris Elba with a hint of Tom Hiddleston when he's not being French.

_Good point... but who the fuck are you then and why can't I see you?_

_**I am-** _

_Are you just really ugly or something? Because that's karma for being a cunt. I mean, seriously. I am not suited to this Jesus bullshit. Can you not get someone else or are you just too lazy to admit you fucked up?_

_What no reply? Ha get rekt!_

Then I was truly falling.

* * *

_I can't breathe._

_I can't breathe. I'm trapped. I'm too heavy. Something's dragging me down but it's not got a hold of me yet I can feel something..._

Then suddenly I'm able to pull myself up and with a gasp I break the surface of the water with only my mouth.

Gulping a deep breath, I feel myself be dragged down once more until my feet hit the ground and suddenly I'm able to walk. Instead of being able to walk on water, I become value price Jesus - able to walk under and emerge like Ariel at the end of the Little Mermaid.

As I step out of the water, incredibly gracefully considering I think my clit is going to fall off due to the cold and I don't think I'm wearing underwear anymore, I ruffle my hair to unglue it from my back because either I'm sweating buckets or someone has turned my skin into a towel.

"Hey," I greet casually despite the situation with a small smile. _Might as well be nice because otherwise I'm not going to get anything from this fucking world... Does that make me a druggie, a prostitute or a sugar baby? What even is the difference..._

The woman in front of me holds a hand out to me which I take as I walk out of the water and she leads me to the ominous looking fortress in the near distance.

_Salt is in my mouth and for once it's just water._

* * *

The halls were cold on my bare feet, raising goosebumps along my arms that were revealed in the beautiful dress that I had been magically changed into like Sailor Moon but less underage panty shots as I spin.

Opening a door, Yara marches forward into the dark room that's barely lit by the bare sun outside and warmed by the fire under the weird squid decor. Inside are Theon and an old guy.

"I told you to wait outside," Theon barks at her. "How did you get past the guards?"

"Anything with a cock is easy to fool," she marches to the man's side who greets her with a 'my dear' and hold her by the shoulder.

"Father," Yara greeted the elderly man with lank hair and a bald spot on his pale wrinkled head.

"YARA?" Theon shrieked. I stayed by the door because his shriek is on par with the old windows loading sound that's been fucked with.

"So good to see you, brother. This _is_  be a homecoming that I'll be telling my grandchildren about~" I do not like the implication in her voice. It's getting a little bit too Lannister up in here.

"She can't lead an attack."

"And why not?" Dad Greyjoy asks.

"You're a woman!" Theon shouts as if it's an insult despite the fact someone's clit is probably bigger than his dick.

"You're the one in skirts."

"This isn't Winterfell, boy. Your sister took over command of your eldest brother's ship after your new father killed him." Yara and he place an arm over their chests and chant, "What's dead may never die."

Theon repeats it back at them as Dad Greyjoy turns away.

"The only nights she's spent off these islands have been spent on the sea. She's commanded men. She's killed men. She knows who she is." Dad Greyjoy puts a scroll into the fire and watches it burn. "No man gives me a crown. I pay the iron price. I will take my crown for that is who I am. That is who we have always been."

"YOU WON'T STAND A CHANCE AGAINST THE LANNISTERS ON YOUR OWN!"

"Who said anything about the Lannisters?" And then they leave Theon behind in the room so I follow them.

Once the door to the chamber is closed, Yara grabs her father's arm, making him look at her. "Father, may I introduce-" Yara began, walking over to me.

"Who is this?" Balon asked, finally spotting me and stilling in his movements.

At my side, Yara urged me forwards gently with a slight push. "She rose from the depths just like the legends say. The sea seemed to call to her."  _Wow, what utter bollocks. I basically drowned, flailed and then managed to walk to the shore._  "It called _me_ to find her," Yara insisted.

Balon raised an eyebrow at her last words."I am Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Islands, my lady."

"Father-" Theon appeared from nowhere and was obviously ready to whine again.

Balon whirled around to look down upon Theon and hissed, "Do you have no respect? Do you not know who this is?" _Sure, talk about me as if I'm not here. Great fun. Loving it._

Theon rolled his eyes and huffed. "Of course I do, she's just Woman of the Sky-"

"SHE IS _'JUST'_  NOTHING! SHE IS THE WOMAN OF THE SEA! THE WIFE OF THE DROWNED GOD! YOU FORGOTTEN WHO YOU ARE BOY! THIS IS WHY YOU CANNOT LEAVE!" Balon roared, "SHE APPEARED BEFORE YOUR SISTER! SHE CHOSE HER!"

Theon didn't reply. Instead he gazed at the ground in shame and shuffled his feet.

Balon snarled before barking at Yara, "See to it that she's settled. Get her anything she wants." Turning to me, he bid farewell oddly, "What is dead may never die."

"What is dead may never die," I repeat mostly out of fear because fucking hell if I've just joined a mermaid cult I'm going to be one of the lamest tumblr children that's ever existed because fuck these guys like squids.

"Come with me," Yara orders and leads me out of the room.

"You are the coolest person ever." She smirks in response.

* * *

"I've forgotten how good a bed can feel," Yara exclaimed as she leapt back onto a bed in a large room. Once again, the squid was a dominant theme in the cold looking room so I awkwardly stood by the door.

"You can make yourself comfortable," Yara said as she began to unlace her boots, taking them off. "The bed's nice... Do you want to try it out?" Yara offered, smirking suggestively. "After all, I live to serve the Drowned God and his wife."

_All we need is Careless Whisper..._

"No thanks unless we're going to sleep. You're attractive and all but I'm honestly not in the mood to fuck anybody at the moment. Thanks for the offer."

She shrugged. Pointing a bootless foot at what looks like a barrel she states, "We can still drink."

_I then proceeded to spend the rest of the evening drinking and talking to Yara about the Iron Islands but I barely remember what she said as I spent half of the evening try not to spew in a rainbow and the other half wondering if my lack of underwear would make it harder to hide the fact that I was almost shitting myself because fuck these people are scary and it was so cold the idea of being left outside almost had me turtling._


	26. I'm So Gay For Gwendoline Christie (Chapter 25)

When I wake up with one of the worst hangovers in Westeros as if I had drowned myself in cheap vodka rather than sharing a barrel of wine, it's to a pile of clothes being chucked and my head and a gruff order to change from the Lord Commander.

Everything hurts as I get dressed and I find multiple bruises from when I had fallen off of the bed... twice

"The messenger sure does sleep a lot. Wouldn't it be easier to use a raven?"

"Apologies, I'm not used to this weather."

Before anyone could say anything else, Jon was shoved into the keep by Craster, covered in what appeared to be his own blood, cuts and bruises had blossomed on all his visible skin. _Well, he's probably not as pretty to Craster now._

"Out. All of ya!" Craster roared. "This bastard's been meddling where he shouldn't." He punctuated his sentence by kicking Jon so hard he rolled onto his back, gasping for breath. Storming towards Jeor who held a hand out so I stayed behind him, Craster gestured a sword with a white wolf pommel at Jeor and stated, "I want you, your men and that poxy messenger boy gone. You  _will_  make this right.

Jon finally managed to stand, spitting blood onto the ground as he staggered.

"Wait outside," Jeor ordered

"Lord Commander-"

"NOW!"

Jon stumbled outside and Jeor snatched back the sword with a nod to Craster and hurried out but not before stating, "I will make this right. Apologies-"

"Apologies? What good are they when you can't keep your word!"

Craster's words followed us out into the snow as Jeor stormed ahead, I followed him close behind.

Upon spotting Jon, he stilled making me bump into his back. Once again he stormed forwards to wher Jon was being 'tended to' by Sam, by a lit torch and a horse. _Very sanitary._

"Lord Commander-" Sam began, standing up.

"Leave us."

Sam obeyed with a bow and scurried past.

As Sam left, Jeor loomed over Jon and asked, "What did you do?"

"Followed him," Jon answered. "He took the bay into the woods. The newborn-"

"What business is that of yours?" Jeor hissed.

"No, you don't understand. He's killing them! All the boys..." I moved from behind Jeor to look at the old man's face when Jon trailed off, understanding in his eyes. "You know," Jon finally stated.

Jeor couldn't meet either of our gazes before he simply said, "Wildlings serve crueler Gods than you or I. Those boys... Craster's offerings-"

"Offerings?" Jon asks. "He's murdering his own children. He's a monster!"

"Aye that he may be but many a time that monster has been the difference between life and death for our Rangers. Your uncle among them. We have other wars to fight out there! Like it or not, we _need_  men like Craster."

I couldn't find my voice, to horrified to make a sound as I watched the two warily.

"I saw it. I saw... something take the child..."

"Whatever it was, I daresay you'll see it again."  _Oh God, I did not sign up for the Blair Witch project._ "Now, ready my horse. We leave at dawn." He finally turned to me, "Are you coming in to eat, girl?"

"No." My voice is hoarse from lack of use. "Someone has to make sure Jon's alright."

Jeor nods, a cold look on his face as he passes the sword to Jon. "Don't lose it again," Jeor warns and then he's gone.

"Where did you get the sword?" I ask to break the silence as we sit back down where Sam had been tending to him. Recognising a small cloth, I feel it and decide to just spit on it and get the blood off.

Gently I scrub at his skin as he answers, "That night when we saved the Lord Commander-"

"You saved him. I was just kind of there."

"That night when  _we_ saved the Lord Commander," Jon repeats. "He wanted to reward me so he gave me his family sword and changed the pommel from a bear of House Mormont to the wolf of House Stark."

I nearly drop the cloth as I begin to howl with laughter.

Jon smiles at me, possibly out of fear of my catching madness before I explain between deep breaths, "When I go...to Essos...I met...his son, Jorah the Explorer. Guy is...a massive penis with... a small one... Can't wait to... rub it in his face." I wipe my face with the back of my glove, fearing the tears will turn into ice and I'll have two sharp weapons - my nips and my tears.

Once I've calmed down, Jon flashes me the Disney prince smile (seriously what is wrong with this family?) that is now visible under the lack of dirt and blood, and asks, "Tell me about your adventures. The people you've met."

"Nah, my life's pretty boring. Plus, need to get that-" I gesture to his entire self. "-Sorted out because it's a mess."

"You just pointed to all of me," he points out.

I hum in agreement and begin to scrub at his face again, becoming more gentle when he flinches and scrubbing harder when the crusty mess won't come off. "Fine, where do you want me to start?"

"How's Robb?" he asks almost immediately.

So I begin to tell him and throughout the night when I tend to his shoulder and his not broken ribs (possibly an attempt to show off his abs), give him food I 'stole'/Sam came and gave it to us, I let someone know the truth of my situation and how horrible it all is and how lost I feel.

In that moment, I don't feel so lost with Jon at my side.

* * *

_Fuck my arse it's too loud. How am I still hungover?_

I stagger out of a tent, passing multiple  It's cold enough that I can keep my cloak on so I ruffle my hair and make sure my trouser bulge is hidden in a pocket of my cloak rather than in front, as I head to where a cacophony is screaming.

So I decide to head in that direction because from here I can't hear any wailing so I'm presuming it's not a war-zone I've just walked into.

The closer I get, the thicker the crowd is until I have to start shoving people out of the way. In the thickest part of the crowd, a clearing is visible with two people fighting in the middle. Over the top of them I see a raised platform like the one at the tourney Robert had sat on with Renly in an ugly crown and weird hipster-hobo clothes in brown and turquoise with a beautiful women with her boobs half out next to him, standing and cheering for Loras.

"Margaery?" I hoarsely whisper, my voice still not improved.

She finally looks at me, gazing past the fighting duo whose clashes and crunches send the crowd into roars.

One of the knights is thrown to the floor, his helm lifted to reveal Loras and a knife pointed at him.

"Yield. I yield!"

Margaery lowers herself back down to her seat and watches the scene intensely.

The knight in golden armour stands to the crowd's applause, letting Loras trip/stumble away from them.

"Well fought," Renly compliments before ordering, "Approach." The knight does so, kneeling in the dirt below him. After a considerable amount of time, Renly orders, "Rise. Remove your helm."

I scream when the knight takes her helmet off, "IT'S GWENDOLINE CHRISTIE!"

Everyone turns to look at me, including her and I can feel the disappointment rolling off of someone near me in waves as I bounce on my toes, staying in my spot.

"I am such a big fan! You are my queen... Wait, didn't you fuck Tom Hiddleston? Nevermind, that's not important! I love you Gwen!"

She ignored me which is completely fine. If she was anyone else, I would make them square up and throw down but the goddess that is she is worth more.

Renly turned back to her before complimenting, "You are all your father promised and more, my lady. I've seen Ser Loras bested once or twice but... never quite in that fashion." Behind the goddess, Loras seems to be having an internal bitch fit.

"Now, now, my love. My brother fought valiantly for you," Margaery states, locking eyes with Renly and glaring.

"That he did, my queen." The expression on his face was that of Sherlock staring at Irene Adler but with more disgust than confusion, confirming my thoughts, before he turned, relaxed, and announced, "But there can only be one champion. Brienne of Tarth, you may ask anything of me that you desire. If it's within my power, it is yours."

Brienne kneels once more before he begins, "Your grace, I ask the honour of a place among your Rainbow Guard. I would be one of your seven, and pledge my life to yours, to go where you go, ride at your side, and keep you safe from all hurt and harm."

_Oh Lord if I didn't think he was gay before, I know for certain now._

Despite the pissy fit Loras is sure to have, Renly agrees. "Done. Rise, Brienne of the Kingsguard!"

A round of applause begins which I join in.

As the applause dies down, a knight steps forward followed by Catelyn Stark.

"Your grace," the knight announces, "I have the honour to bring you Lady Catelyn Stark, sent as an envoy by her son, Robb; Lord of Winterfell-"

"Lord of Winterfell and King in the North," Catelyn corrects.

"Lady Catelyn," Renly greets. "I'm pleased to see you. May I present my wife, Margaery of House Tyrell."

The two women bow their heads to each other.

"You are very welcome here, Lady Stark. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"You are most kind."

"My lady," Renly starts, "I swear to you that I will see the Lannisters answer to your husband's murder. When I take King's Landing, I'll bring you Joffrey's head."

The crowd goes wild. Yes, because thinking about a cunting little boy dying should bring everyone's spirits up.

Once the crowd goes quiet again, Catelyn states, "It will be enough to know that justice was done, my Lord."

"Your grace," Brienne corrects. "And you should kneel when you approach the king."

"There's no need for that. Lady Stark is an honoured guest-" Renly is cut off by Loras' whining/attempting to snipe as well as a 12 year old on Call of Duty as his mum complains in the background;

"Has your son marched against Tywin Lannister yet?"

"I do not sit on my son's war councils and if I did, I would not share his strategies with you."

Shots fired.

Catelyn - 1. Loras - 0.

"If Robb Stark wants a pact with us, he should come himself not hide behind his mother's skirts-"

" _My_ son is fighting a war, not playing at one."

Shots fired:

Catelyn - 2. Loras - 0.

Renly smirks before he stands us out of his seat. He smiles at Loras before he steps down from his throne. "Don't worry my lady, our war is just beginning." Leading Catelyn away, he is followed by Brienne who only shoots a glance back at Margaery and I.

"She looked at me!" I squeal.

Margaery has a tight smile upon her face before she stands, dismissing the crowd and leads me to her tent with a gentle arm linked in mine.

* * *

"Your tent is actually your brothers tent isn't it?" I asked when she had sat me down on the bed after slipping over a shield.

"How did you-"

"Your husband is gay. Your brother is gay. I'm sensing you're the beard."

"The beard?"

I flopped back on the bed. "You're faking a relationship with one to protect the other."

"I suppose I am, in a way." Margaery looks lost in that moment, younger than she is. I tug her by the back of her gown until she flops back besides me.

"Cheer up. So... How the hell did this all happen?"

* * *

After what seems like ages of talking to Margaery, it seems like she's cheered up and so have I.

The tent opens to reveal a much more butch/less twink-more I would let him bend me over the kitchen sink, version of Loras with facial hair and a broader chest encased in armour. "Margaery - Who is this?"

Margaery struggles to sit up. "Garlan, this is Y/N L/N-"

"Of House Slytherin? Our grandmother speaks of you often...as does out brother Willas."

"Why would Willas talk about me? I get Olenna because of the whole 'my swamp is near her swamp' deal..." The two siblings shared a look that made me trail off.

Instead of addressing it, Garlan introduced himself, "Lady Y/N, I am Garlan of House Tyrell, Margaery's older brother. My wife is the Lady Leonette of House Fossoway."  _Oh God, he's too perfect in this hellish world. Too pure, too good. My son._ "Now, shall we go to dinner?"

* * *

Once I've woken up in King's Landing, I'm placed into a bath with Nym scrubbing at my hair after helping me shave my legs. Whilst we waited for my hair to dry, Lorenah had sat herself down and was now beginning to teach me for the first time once I had confirmed I read the book of sexism. This whole conversation began with the words;

"The book was absolute shite."

"Why?" Lorenah inquired.

"It's so sexist! It's basically telling women to shut up and stay in the kitchen unless they have servants then stay in the bedroom. Look, if men want that shit just buy a blow up doll."

"...So you understand. This isn't the life women may want but the title comes with duties and power. Westerosi women conform because like the grass if they don't bend, they break-"

"Bollocks. You've seen Cersei, look how pissed she gets! If everyone abides by the book then Cersei must have a massive swinging dick or just identify as male."

"The Queen Mother has power. You have less but you still have power. Use it but don't abuse it." Nym sighed. "Now, first matter of business, can you sew?" I shrug. "Embroidery?" I shake my head. "Play an instrument?"

"Does air guitar count?"

"No."

"What about mayonnaise?"

"Is mayonnaise an instrument?" I shake my head. "Then no. Neither count. To recap: you can't play an instrument, you can't embroider and you barely sew. This is going to be my hardest assignment yet-"

"What are you, a spy? I'm not an assignment-"

"Yes you are. If you're not ready for this, you can not be presented as a lady of the court. If you can not be presented you can not perform any of your duties. You will not be able to entertain or charm. Now, whilst you're being dressed, you shall learn a song. Pick one; Rains of Castamere or the Mother's hymn?"

_It's a bit obvious what I chose._

* * *

As the light was beginning to fade from the sky compared to the radiant day I had arrived in, I was rewarded with a 'break' after learning three songs (Rains of Castamere, the Mother's hymn and even the Dornishman's wife because I refused to tarnish the memory of Robb Stark singing Bear and the Maiden Fair to me) and beginning to learn how to embroider on a handkerchief; a shitty pattern of flowers and the words 'Forget-me-not."

As I journeyed through the holdfast, barely considering where I was going, only watching my blue gown and it's cape drag along the floor as I fumbled with the handkerchief in my hands.

I almost dropped it when I heard the shouting next to me, "NO! NO!" Which was promptly followed by wailing.

Tyrion passed me as he hurried out of the room, I doubt he noticed me from where I hid in the shadows. Once he had gone down the corridor, I caught the door before it swung shut, and slipping inside the room.

On one seat sat Cersei, sobbing into her hands.

"Cersei, it's me. Are you alright?"

"He wants to send her away!"

"Who? Where?" I ask as I walk to her side.

"Dorne! Dorne!" she insisted. "That little monster wishes to send Myrcella away to marry! My only girl!"

Passing the handkerchief over to her, I attempt to comfort her by wrapping her in an awkward side hug (because I'm afraid she'll bite my hand off) as if she was just a drunk friend and not the woman whose pussy gave the world AIDs in human form, "How about we have a drink and then forget  _all_  about this, alright?"

Shaking her head, patting away at her tears, Cersei said, "No, no. I have dinner with *hic* my children..."

"Alright, let's get you sobered up a little bit and let's sort you out before you vomit into your already tear soaked hair." Supporting her, we made out way to wherever the fuck it was she was leading us to sort her out properly.

* * *

Somehow I had been invited to this awkward dinner because I had helped Cersei.

I say awkward because no one was really eating anything of the various foods, Cersei was slowly drinking herself into a stupor and Sansa wasn't talking leaving me to carry the conversation, telling them about my day, until I ran out of appropriate things to say.

Myrcella was the one who left the silence. "When will Sansa and Joffrey intend to be married?"

"Soon, darling, when the war is over," Cersei answered patiently with a small smile at her daughter.

"Mother says I'll have a new gown for the ceremony and another for the feast but yours will be ivory, since you're the bride."

Sansa looked horrified which Cersei noticed, judging by the quirk of her lip, before stating, "The princess just spoke to you."

"Pardon, your Grace." Sansa's knuckles were white as she held onto her cutlery, before she complimented the younger girl, "I'm sure your dress will be beautiful Myrcella. I'm counting the days until the fighting is done and I can pledge my love to the King in sight of the Gods." She smiled kindly at the girl and we all fell into silence again.

"Is Joffrey going to kill Sansa's brother?" Tommen broke the silence this time.

Sansa and I began to swallow wine as if we were impersonating Cersei on a good day.

"He might," Cersei answered her son honestly before inquiring, "Would you like that?"

"No. I don't think so," Tommen answered simply.

Cersei leans forward as she informs her children, "Even if he does, Sansa will do her duty." She leans back, pinning Sansa with her glare. "Won't you, little dove?"

Sansa didn't reply, she simply drank more wine. "May I be excused?"

"Yes, you may. Goodnight, little dove."

"Night Sansa!" I called after her, twisting in my chair to do so, watching her retreating figure... who had just left me with the Devil herself. "WAIT! Don't leave me!"

She did. _Fuck._

Slowly I turned around to face the two awkwardly eating children and the soft glare of the grand high bitch.

"When will you be getting married, Y/N?"

"Sorry, what?"

"You're very beautiful and kind. Surely you have a lot of suitors?"

"Nope. No guys or gals are interested. I guess I'm just too awesome to handle." At her sad look (why the fuck is she sad I'm single?), I hurriedly ask, "What about you? Anyone you're interested in?"

Myrcella blushes lightly, a pale rose, and doesn't answer me.

Tommen yawns before Cersei can open her mouth and with a gentle smile, she declares, "Off to bed with you two."

Tommen waddles off greatfully after he slinks down from the table.

"Mother may I please say goodnight to Y/N?"

"Yes of course but be quick about it," Cersei agrees, leaving me with Myrcella.

She waits before her mother is out of earshot before she gets down from her seat and stands next to me, whispering, "The only boy I like is  _Robb Stark._ He was so kind to me when we first came to Winterfell. One evening when I wished to see the new foal in the stable, he escorted me." Myrcella was blushing red now. "He's so handsome."

"Yeah..." I agree thinking back to his Disney prince grin.

"Well, goodnight Y/N." Myrcella hugs me, squeezing me tight before she scurries off to her mother.

Now to find Tyrion and ask what the fuck was that all about earlier...

* * *

The journey from Maegor's holdfast was long and perilous mainly because I avoided Sandor and Joffrey, someone with their tits out and the reflective head of Varys, until I arrived at the Tower of the Hand.

I had already noticed some changes, it was more crimson than the blood that had been spilled inside, but the final realisation that Tyrion was here came when I passed through the main door coming to one of the rooms off of the 'dining' room and listened in at the opening.

"-Leave me out of your next deception!" The raspy voice of Littlecunt declared.

"That's a shame. You were to be the centre piece of my next deception. My brother Jaime rots in a northern stockade. I would see him released. That's where you come in," Tyrion informs Baelish.

"Robb Stark will never release the Kingslayer-"

"No he won't. But his mother might. How would you like to see your beloved Cat again?"

A hand grabs onto my shoulder and claps onto my mouth before I can scream. Before I can wriggle, the man hisses, "Be quiet. It's just me."

He lets go and I whirl around to see the smirking face of Bronn.

"Miss me?"

I roll my eyes and whisper, "What are you doing here?"

" _I_  have a job to do." Bronn walked in, facing around the corner, and left me to stand outside.

"Find him?" Tyrion queried.

"Oh, aye and he has company." Bronn walks further in, leaving my line of sight as he mocks whoever the fuck he's talking about, "The filthy old stoat. Almost hate to interrupt."

"No you don't."

"No I don't." I could basically see the smirk on Bronn's face. I do get to see it when he comes back out.

"What the fuck is this?" I ask.

"Oh you'll see."

Tyrion soon comes out after Baelish storms past us, probably to write shitty poetry in his diary.

_Dear Diary,_

_Cat still doesn't love me and won't let me get near her... Call the whambulance._

"My lady," Tyrion greets. "Would you like to come with us? We have business to take care of..."

* * *

On our way, Tyrion had introduced me to one of the wildlings he had become friends with on his super cool road-trip movie with Bronn.

Bronn kicks the door in, revealing Pycelle in bed with a naked women curled up at his side who flees to a corner to curl up as she hides.

"After you, m'lady." Tyrion lets me walk in to the room as he leans against the door frame.

"What is the meaning of this?" Pycelle complains as Bronn storms forwards and yanks him out of bed, pushing him forwards to face Tyrion as he pleads.

"You disappoint me, Grand Maester."

"I am your loyal servant-"

"So loyal that you told the queen about my plans to send Myrcella away to Dorne?" Tyrion pulls out a chair and silently gestures for me to take it. When I refuse he makes a move to sit down in it.

"No! Never!" Pycelle protests. "It's false, I swear it! It wasn't me! Ah... Varys. It was Varys the Spider!"

"You see, I told Varys that I was giving the princess to the Greyjoys," Tyrion explains as he messes around with a random instrument that looks like it was made to squeeze testicles. "I told Littlefinger that I planned to wed her to Robert, or more commonly known as Robin, Arryn. I told no one that I was offering her to the Dornish. No one but you."

_It all makes sense now. It was all a lie and I helped someone else for NOTHING!_

"The eunuch has spies everywhere-"

"Cut off his manhood and feed it to the goats," Tyrion orders.

Pycelle protests as the man with an axe looks around before stating, "There are no goats, half-man."

"Well make do!"

Bronn is smirking as Pycelle falls back onto the bed to get away from the mountain tribesman.

"How long have you been spying for my sister?"

"All I did, I did for House Lannister. Always. Your lord father, ask him! I've been his servant since the days of the Mad King."

Tyrion drums his nails against the chair before he turns to me and asks, "Y/N do you like his beard? I don't like his beard."

"What?"

Bronn grabs Pycelle's beard before slashing at it with a dagger despite his protests.

"How many hands have you served, Pycelle? Eddard Stark? Jon Arryn?" Tyrion pushes himself up as he slowly walks towards Pycelle.

"Lord Arryn! He-He knew. He knew the truth about the Queen an-and... He planned to act, to t-tell King Robert."

"So you poisoned him?"

Pycelle with his shit beard draws back, offended. "No. Never!"

"But you still let him die! You made sure he succumbed!"

Pycelle, on the verge of tears, desperately stated, "House Lannister... I've always served Lannister-"

"Get him out of my sight. Throw him into the black cells," Tyrion orders and Pycelle is dragged out accordingly by Bronn, who leaves me with a smirk and a wink, and the tribesman.

Tyrion approaches the woman and places a gold coin on the chair next to her quivering form. "For your trouble." He looks back at me, standing slightly horrified by the door and the struggle Pycelle is putting up, before placing another on top of the last one. With a kind smile he leaves her, grabbing my hand and leading me from the room.

Once outside, it's as if I gain my breath back and I request, "Alright, I need wine, food and you to tell me what the fuck has been happening because holy shit you were like the Terminator."


	27. A Red Sun Rises (Chapter 26)

I wake up to the smell of rotting flesh and burning flesh. It's a fuckfest of death that begins to make me hack and cough as I stand up, using some fabric to pull me up which leads to a dismembered arm. Yanking away, I scramble away from the dead body, out of the tent and onto the remains of a battlefield.

As I pass through trudging the ground muddy with blood and stumbling on the mashed parts of men I feel my stomach curl.

Finally I stumble across a sight that makes me still as if my own breath had finally left me.

A dark haired woman in a simple dress with skin like caramel sits tending to a man.

This man reminds me of Robert in his stature and his odd wiry facial hair. This man reminds me of Ned somehow. He barely looks like him but the resigned look in his eyes reminds me of how Ned looked as he knelt before the executioner.

These two things make me speak up. "Let me help. What do you need?"

Weakly, he asked, "...Do you sing?"

"A little."

"As long as it's not morbid," he managed to choke out. "Don't want none of that Mother's hymn shit or Lannister."

"Alright...  _The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun, and her kisses were warmer than spring. But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel, and its kiss was a terrible thing. The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed, in a voice that was sweet as a peach. But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own and a bite sharp and cold as a leech. As he lay on the ground with the darkness around and the taste of his blood on his tongue, his brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer, and he smiled and he laughed and he sung, 'Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done, the Dornishman's taken my life. But what does it matter, for all men must die and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife! Oh, I~ I've tasted the Dornishman's wife..."_  My voice trailed off when I felt him go limp against me.

"He's not dead," she informs me. "It's just the shock."

I take off a glove, holding it between my thighs. Placing my fingers against his neck, I feel for a pulse. There isn't one.

"Who are you?" I ask, my voice barely audible to me as if I was talking through a mouthful of foam.

"Talisa Maegyr, you?"

I refuse to answer, my eyes still gazing down at the face of the man so like the people I've met and lost.

Something in his face reminds me of a friend, the way his lips have fallen into a smile as if he was high reminds me of someone else... It's almost too much.

"You sing well," Talisa compliments.

I nod. If I open my mouth all that will come out will be bile.

The day carries on with me doing the same, helping many people with their final moments. Each time I look at their faces, I see something that reminds me of someone I once knew in my world or even the world I'm in now.

At one point, I even find someone who reminds me of that knight that Sandor killed the night of Lady's rescue.

_Was it better to let her live than to let her die?_

Overall, I've done nothing. I'm meant to be this great change but Drogo still died, Robert still died, Ned still died, Joffrey's still a dick, Cersei's still a drunk...

_Nothing has changed. I've contributed nothing._

After following Talisa around all day, hood up and occasionally singing to bleeding men, I was singing to a man who protested about his leg being cut off, holding him down with a Silent Sister at my side, Talisa opposite us.

Someone yanked the boy back and flicking my gaze up I recognised it as Robb immediately.

I sang louder to drown out the man's cries and protests, his hand clutching mine in a vice like grip as someone in the background with a pretty sexy voice just droned on about 'our men'.

I ignored all of them, focusing on the man having his leg amputated as I repeated the Dornishman's wife for maybe the hundredth time, barely paying attention to the conversation.

When they began to argue, I barely paid attention, still holding on to the song I was singing.

* * *

After helping load another body onto a cart, Robb found Talisa again but hadn't spotted her, instead turning to me.

"Miss, you have a beautiful voice," Robb complimented.

"She does," Talisa agreed, smiling at me.

Robb caught Talisa's gaze and once again they began to argue so I followed them at a pace, barely listening and surveying the grounds.

Bodies were cleared now but the blood they left behind, their belongings, still decorated the green grass and the torn up ground that we trudged through now.

Once we had reached a cart where Talisa put her box of medicine stuff, she opened a gourd and poured water on her hands, offering me the same silently as she and Robb continued. I placed my ungloved hand underneath, wiping them on my trousers.

Talisa climbed up onto the cart and it began to pull away, leaving Robb and I in it's dust.

Robb watched her disappear into the distance, her still smirking at him.

Finally he turned back to me but I wasn't in the mood. Something was pulling at my heart whilst something else turned my stomach.

So I went to make myself useful until I passed out from exhaustion.

* * *

The dress Sera and Alis put me in after my bath, without washing my hair and just moving it up out of my face simply, was a long black dress with long hanging sleeves and silver detailing including a silver belt piece.

After thanking them, I ask Emma what I should do today.

"My lady, you may want to avoid court today-"

Something is wrong. I can feel it and so I hurry down the halls to the court, my skirts in my hands, ignoring Emma's cries for me to come back.

* * *

When I arrive to the hall it's the the horrible sight of Joffrey pointing the sodding crossbow at a sobbing Sansa.

Not waiting to hear anymore I storm in, people jumping out of my way until I'm visible to the King.

"Leave her alone!" I shout, coming to stand before Sansa. "If you're going to shoot anyone, shoot me. I'm more of a threat than she could be to you. I was there at the battlefield-"

"You didn't fight," Joffrey states.

"Didn't I? How can you prove it? I could have slain hundreds of your men at Oxcross. Yeah, that's right, I'm in the know. Anyway, for all you know I could be dying underneath these clothes!"

I could be but I'm not. Besides, it would have leaked through and tainted the silver belt piece at this point.

Joffrey sighs before putting the crossbow down, ordering Sansa to stand which she complies with.

I step out of the way now that he's not pointing anything at her only to hear;

"So we'll have to send a message to your brother in some other way. Ser Meryn." As he marches towards Sansa, I grab her and pull her behind me. "Leave her face," Joffrey orders. "I like her pretty."

Suddenly I'm grabbed and pulled away. Shrieking, I attempt to get out of the guy's hold as Sansa is punched in the gut. As she gasps in pain, Meryn draws his sword and hits her with the blunt of it.

I can't scream because of the gauntlet over my mouth that's too hard for me to bite down on.

"Ser Meryn, my lady's overdressed. Unburden her."

Meryn slips the blade down the back of Sansa's dress. She attempts to cover herself up as she sobs.

"If you want Robb Stark to hear us, we're going to have to speak louder!"

Ser Meryn raises his sword above his head, Sansa cowers and I close my eyes tight, unable to watch the scene knowing I should have done something.

"What is the meaning of this?" Tyrion's voice echoes throughout the hall. The crowd parts for him and Bronn as they march forwards. "What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?" Tyrion hisses at the cunt.

"The kind who serves his king,  _Imp,"_  Ser Meryn spits.

Bronn storms over to me and when he places his hand on his sword, only then does the guard drop me to the floor. Helping me up, Bronn makes sure I'm stable before saying, "Careful now, we don't want to get blood all over your pretty white cloak."

Once I'm free and stable, I hurry over to Sansa's side and wrap her in my arms, turning her away from the King as I glare up at him. I attempt to comfort her with small noises, not sirens or anything but gentle humming and shushing.

"Someone give the girl something to cover herself up with," Tyrion says. When he receives no answer, Tyrion storms towards the looming throne and states, "She is to be your Queen, have you no regard for her honour?"

Sandor marches over to us, wrapping mostly Sansa in his white cloak which I help her wrap around herself before pulling her back into my arms.

"Thank you, _Sandor."_

As Joffrey and Tyrion squabble, I watch Sandor return to his post and avert his gaze once more.

"THE KING CAN DO AS HE LIKES!" Joffrey shouts.

"The Mad King did as he liked... Has your Uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?"

"No one threatens his Grace in my pres-"

"Shut up Meryn. You hit a little girl when you seem to find it perfectly okay to impersonate one," I spit at him.

Tyrion smirks at me before stating without looking at Meryn, gazing back at his nephew, "I'm not threatening the King, Ser, I am educating my nephew." Tyrion calls over his shoulder, "Bronn, the next time Ser Meryn speaks - kill him." Finally he turns to stare at Meryn. " _That_ was a threat, see the difference?"

Tyrion walks over to Sansa's side and offers her his hand which she takes to pull herself up graciously but withdraws once she's stood, preferring to stay nearer me so I loop one of my arms with hers.

"Come on, sweetie." I glare back at Joffrey who seems to be beginning a tantrum and begin to escort her out, Tyrion at Sansa's other side and Bronn at our back as well as some other random women.

"I apologise for my nephew's behaviour," Tyrion begins softly. "Do you want an end to this engagement?"

"I am loyal to King Joffrey; my one true love."

Tyrion stills at her parroted words and as I guide her out of the hall, I hear Tyrion whisper, "Lady Stark, you may survive us yet."

* * *

"Easy does it. Easy does it." We were back in my chambers and so I had come back to another bath being drawn so I opted for Sansa to get in.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked once she was settled, standing at her back and beginning to undo the ridiculous hairstyle.

"I deserve any punishment my beloved-" Sansa began to parrot.

"Sansa," I cut her off, not in the mood. "Be real with me. You're safe here with me."

She opened and closed her mouth uselessly before whispering, "He showed me Father's head and my Septa's. He made me stare at them for hours." She swallows deeply before she admits, turning to look at me, "I almost pushed him into the dry moat."

"And if you had, you would have been killed-"

"Wouldn't it be better to be dead than live like this?"

I can't answer her. I should say something but I can't come up with anything for a long time so I continue to take her hair out of the weird style before quietly beginning, "Sansa here is something I was told a long time ago that I want you to ignore; your problems are no bigger than others. I want you to ignore this because yes this is a horrible capitalist society where people die for honour and greed and maybe your horse eats better than some people's children but your pain is personal. You are allowed to be selfish. Now, do you want to get out and go to bed or eats first?"

Sansa just nods, her head lolling with the weight of her life and exhaustion.

_Not very helpful._

I call Sera and Alis in to help her out, staying by her side when she calls and reaches out for me.

* * *

As Sansa is sorted out, I dress for wherever it I'm going to turn up. Logically, I've been in the warmer areas and figure I'm headed for the North once more. So I slip on my cloak from the Night's watch over my dress and prepare myself for winter but first; sleep.

_Oh this has a hood on it, that's pretty lit._

Tucking Sansa in, I crawl into the bed next to Sansa after giving orders to make sure she stays safe in this room to Emma.

"Y/N, do you dream?"

"No. I'm actually glad I don't. This world has taken a lot from me but do you know what it hasn't take from me?"

"Your beauty? Your kindness?" Sansa offers.

I shake my head. "My memes."

"What is a me-me?"

So I tell her a tale of beautiful pictographs and their meanings in the modern world until we both pass out.

* * *

I was wrong. It's not winter. I had woken up in a tent spouting more crimson than the battlefield had.

_This carpet's pretty nice... No, focus Y/N._

I pull myself up from the floor until I'm stood face to face with an older man with an angular face.

"Hi? Who are you and where am I?"

He raises an eyebrow, only glancing up at me slightly from what he was writing. "I am Ser Tywin of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Warden of the West, Hand of the King-"

"Oh, you're Tyrion's father." He almost snarls at that. "What were you looking at?" I ask, moving around the table quickly.

I stand at his shoulder, peering at the map. Snorting, I point out, "No wonder you lot are losing this war."

"Pardon?"

"You have too many openings and you're allowing yourselves to be drawn into enemy territory without enough troops. You don't even have foci like they do. It's as if you're not serious about this war but you have to prove a point."

"How could you possibly..." Tywin's voice trails off before he orders sternly, "Remove your hood."

"What?"

"Now."

"So it is you... Excuse me, my lady." Then he was off, storming out of the tent with a purpose, taking his letter with him...

Leaving me with loads of figurines and an entire map.

_Dungeons and dragons in dungeons and dragons (world)..._

* * *

_I'm bored now._

After playing with the pieces as if I was playing with action men or barbies, trying to build a tower of the pieces, figuring out where I had been so far and eventually just moving the pieces to more strategic places, I had officially run out of things I was willing to do or capable to do.

It had gotten much colder since Tywin had stormed out and not a lot had happened. Someone had brought me in a small bundle of grapes, a few slices of cold meat, some cheese, two pieces of bread and a pitcher of water so I filled the glass Tywin had left behind so I didn't tip it down my tits.

I had started cramping a while ago so I was not moving from this chair where I was curled up against the plush leather, my boots on the floor where they had remained since I took them off to put my knees under the cloak.

I had considered having a wank or even a danger wank (wanking and then getting to the edge and calling someone's name or just screaming so that they may happen upon you if you don't finish before then) to get rid of the pain because I sure as fuck was not going to do yoga but I figured I didn't want to mess my trousers any more than I had already done. I had ripped part of my fake penis off, as it was made of a bundle of bandage-type material, and was using that, changing it when it felt slightly damp and only then getting up to throw it outside (littering is bad but I am not just holding on to a bloody rag).

Finally the tent flap opened, giving me a new focus for my boredom and not my sexual fantasies, revealing the figure of Tywin.

 _Pity I don't have a spinning chair and a cat..._ "Oh, you're back. Are you going to explain what the fuck that was all about?"

"No. Now come with me, Y/N."

"Wait, how the fuck do you know my name?" But I do follow Tywin outside.

* * *

"How do you know my name?" I ask once more as I had been since we left the tent.

As we passed them, men bowed to Tywin and his shadow, me but with my hood up, and parted like the Red Sea before him.

When Tywin stopped it was before a pale white horse who was lead to him by a younger man with a mop of dark blonde curls. The attendant helps Tywin onto his horse just as someone rides up beside him on a brown horse.

I can barely see him so I pull down my hood, feeling the light chill slap against my bared face.

"Brother!"

"Kevan-"

"Greetings, lady Y/N. I was not aware..." The man atop the horse, dressed in similar elaborate armour to Tywin, trails off at the sharp glare Tywin gives him.

"So... Is Y/N a common name here?" I ask, watching Tywin be seated atop a horse as white as snow.

"...Verily, my lady." _Well Mr Fizzles thinks that you're a liar._

An attendant helps me up onto the horse behind the man who Tywin introduces as his brother Kevan who clearly got the hair in the family.

"Are the plans still in place?"

"Yes," Tywin confirmed before he began to just talk in military speech and order things whilst I stared at the floor and wondered if a puddle of blood would form underneath me similar to how pee puddles under a sim.

An attendant helps me up onto the horse behind Tywin. After checking I'm comfortable as I can be (not that comfortable, I'm cramping and bleeding everywhere but not like a broken sprinkler), the attendant disappears into the background and soon the horse is urged forwards and we're on our way.

* * *

"About my name... If you were just trying to prove your points in Scrabble, that's fine," I comment deciding I can wait until we get to wherever the fuck it is we're going.

Tywin sighs and mutters something that sounds like, "You haven't changed."

I can't see his face from behind him on the horse so I simply face plant on his back and distract myself by playing I Spy on my own to distract me from my thoughts because Tywin didn't want to play and everyone else ignored me.

* * *

Tywin's horse goes straight through the non-existent gate of the crumbling castle, mud splashing against my cloak.

Men bow as Tywin slows the horse as he gets closer to them, gesturing to something I can't see as he asks, "What's this?"

The horse is held steady for him so Tywin easily clambers off.

"We weren't expecting you 'til tomorrow Lord Tywin."  _Holy shit his balls must have dropped to the floor when puberty hit him!_

Someone steps forward and begins to help me off but I just hop down, glad I'm still wearing the boots from the Night's watch that haven't caused me to shatter my ankle.

When I catch up to Tywin's side it almost makes me flinch at the sight of a pen holding filthy people bowing in the mud... Most of them.

Something about the child standing and staring away from the front seems familiar.

"Why are these prisoners not in their cells?" Tywin inquires as he begins to march around the pen. I hurry up to him because it's better the devil you know than the one you don't.

"Cells are over-flowing, my lord," Balls Deep answers. Good God you could orgasm if he did ASMR.

Another of the guards pipes up, "This lot won't be here long. Don't need no permanent place." His voice trails off as Tywin looms over him, hands held behind his back. "We usually just..."

Under the hood I squint at the only standing member of the pen, barely able to see with the hood hanging over my eyes and the dim light. I take it off, almost wishing I hadn't when I finally recognise Arya and have to bite my lip to hold back the gasp.

Luckily, her gaze was fixated elsewhere so I avert my eyes to watch Tywin.

"Are we so well-manned that we can afford to discard able young bodies and skilled laborers?" When he recieves no answer, he moves along before stopping before a man leant against the pin, tied up.

The filthy man opens his eyes when the and I swear they're as blue as Robert's or at least as blue as that stuff they use in tampon and pad adverts because red is too much.

"You," Tywin addressed him before inquiring, "Do you have a trade?"

"Smith, my lord," he answers.

"WHAT YOU LOOKING AT?" The shout draws my attention back to Arya before the drawing of her sword by the guard does. He barks an order at her, pointing the sword at her, "Kneel or I'll carve your lungs out, boy!"

Tywin walks over, resting his gauntlets against a post of the fence. "You will do no such thing. This one's a girl, you _idiot_. Dressed as a boy. Why?"

I still at Tywin's words, fighting hard to keep from giving myself or Arya away as I gaze at her.

"Safer to travel, my Lord."

"Smart," Tywin complimented before snarking, "More than I can say for this lot. Get these prisoners to work... And bring the girl." As he walks off with me following him closely (very aware of the stares), he stops and states, "I need a new cup bearer."

A guard grumbles his affirmative.

Tywin stops once more, nodding his head to me. "Welcome to Harrenhal, my lady. Come, we have much to discuss." Tywin offered him arm which I took and lead me away.


	28. FREE THE NIPPLE (Chapter 27)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://i.quotev.com/img/q/u/18/2/16/uzaiv3v7rs.jpg

We hadn't talked at all on our way through the castle as we passed four tortures occurring, three executions, two men washing the blood out of their clothes and hands and one man who led us to Tywin's requested meeting chamber.

The meeting chamber, as it turns out, was a just a room with a long table in it with a pitcher and glasses to one side with a map on the table and little pieces sitting in an open box.

"Right, first off, you want to make this your base of operations but it hasn't even got a roof... this room does but that's not the point, there's no windows, there's nothing for miles and it's crumbling. Well done," I snark, gazing out of the window. "Oh would you look at that, he's hammering some ginger's head onto a spike. Lovely."

"Harrenhal is not some luxury holiday spot, it is an ancient and powerful seat that I can use to my advantage in this war," Tywin replied, seating himself at the head of the table, motioning me to sit at his left. I complied.

Before I could snark back, the door creaked open to the meeting room, revealing Balls Dropped Through The Earth.

"Lord Tywin, a scroll has just arrived." The scroll was placed into Tywin's awaiting hand and he left without another word.

The seal on the scroll was like the one on a Harry Potter letter; red and wax, only stamped with a lion it seems. Tywin picked up a letter opener from the table and slit it open before reading it.

"Renly Baratheon has been slain by Brienne of Tarth, a member of his Rainbow guard, murdering several guards and fleeing with Catelyn Stark," Tywin informs me after he placed it back down on the table. "And the Tyrells have fled back to Highgarden."

"What? No, that can't be right? Gwen- Brienne would never..." I protest weakly. _But it's not Gwendoline Christie, is it? She's someone I don't know at all_

Tywin simply quirks an eyebrow at me before sighing. "Regardless, I will need to have a meeting of my council. Before I do, as I stated earlier, we have much to discuss-"

"Yeah, about you knowing my name-"

Tywin interrupts me. "A conversation for another time. This is not that time. First, I demand you tell me all that you know." He stood and began to pour himself some clear water from the pitcher, filling a second glass at the table.

"A conversation for another time," I repeated his words. "The details of the future-"

"I wish for you to speak about your experience in Westeros. My  _son,_  Tyrion sent a letter about you many weeks ago and  I wish to know if what he said is true. Now, begin," Tywin ordered, passing me a goblet.

_Hours later, I was ushered out and into a bed by some attendant where I fell asleep, guided by the greatest guard; Balls Fell So Fast and Hard Through The Earth They Now Rest On Satan's Head Like Princess Leia's Buns._

* * *

Another bath, another make-shift pad, another lecture from Lorenah that's vague enough (it was about what each region of the lands is, their brief history and the production) and I'm free to bugger off into the sunset. So, taking a small purse, I hurry out into the streets with only a thin stretch of tan fabric as a shawl over my head, leaving Emma behind - who had told me Sansa had left the morning after the incident and had not returned- with my cloak and asking to have it washed as well as the rest of the Night's Watch gear.

Now, as I ventured through the streets of the Capital city of Westeros, I really wished for a map.

I had journeyed down Prostitute Lane, hurrying past what I recognized to be Petyr's establishment from the male prostitute leaning against the door-frame.

I had hurried past the Sept of Baelor with my head down, not wishing to have any flashbacks.

I had gone to a blacksmith's that I vaguely recognized from my piss-up with Sandor.

Now, I was really lost.

After hearing shouting and cheering of an almost recognizable sort, the sort of nonsense Trump preaches or one of these preacher twats who believes everyone is wrong, I headed towards the familiar noise, buying random trinkets as I passed like fruit, jewelry and even

Before I could get to the preacher which seemed just around the corner, now talking about 'the Lions that cause rot and strife', I was stopped by a child running into me. Almost dropping my basket, I caught the small almost naked boy before he could hurt himself any further, judging by the blood on his arm.

"OI!"

I ignored it, instead favoring to look at the skittish boy. I bent down slightly before lightly taking his hand. Bending down, I asked, "Where are your parents?"

"Sorry miss but I don't have none. All I've got is my brother." The boy pointed to a shadowed corner which when I squinted, hid another boy with slightly darker skin.

"YOU!" The voice roared behind me and I stood up to face him, the boy tightening his grip on my hand and hiding behind me. "I'M GOING TO HAVE YOUR HEAD-"

"What crime? Because that breath should be one-"

"Theft," he snarled like a rabid animal, spit hanging from his jaws as his cavernous mouth formed the words, leaning towards me as if to intimidate me. "He stole from me-"

"What did he steal then? Your daughters' virginity, because if it's that he won't do it again."

"A loaf of bread," the little boy whispered and flicking my eyes to the boy and his brother, I caught sight of their ribs and not wanting to be a bastard to children, I sighed.

"How much?" When I received no answer, I elaborated, "How much for the loaf of bread and whatever else it is he wants?"

The man backed up before storming over to his stall. "Three gold dragons."

I rolled my eyes. _He's clearly trying to stiff me for a price but fuck it, I don't have Abu to steal it if I don't pay._ Re-settling the basket and shawl on me, I took a step but was held back by the boy looking nervously at the ground.

"What do you want?" I asked.

Only when the boy raised his arms slightly did I realise what he wanted, as young children usually wanted with that motion, so picking the boy up, I settled him on my hip and once more began to make my way over to the stall.

In the end he chose two loaves of bread and an apple which cost me 6 gold dragons and 2 silver stags.

When I put him back down, he grabbed the things and hugged them to himself. Without saying goodbye, the boy fled into the shadows and with a shrug to myself, I go back to my original plan and find the preacher which I did in less than a minute, standing before him and listening to his nonsense.

Above a small crowd who stood at his feet, a filthy man stood and shouted, "Corruption! Yes, we are swollen, bloated, foul! Brother fornicates with sister in the bed of kings, and we're surprised when the fruit of their incest is rotten?! Yes, a rotten king!"

_Meh, the guy makes sense._

"...A dancing king prancing about his blood-stained halls to the tune of a twisted demon monkey."

The crowd laughed.

"What? Demon monkey?" The almost shrill tone makes me spin to face the two of them; Bronn and Tyrion stood behind me but haven't seemed to notice me.

"The people think you're pulling the King's strings. They blame you for the city's ills."

"Tyrion? Bronn?" I ask.

"M'lady-" Bronn begins to greet.

"Don't say that, you're not wearing a fedora," I complain. "But it's good to see you."

I fall into step with Bronn as he begins to walk, leaving Tyrion behind until he recovers from the insult and pushes past us to walk ahead.

* * *

After ages of walking in relative silence with me stopping at stalls that catch my eye and buying things, occasionally giving to the poor children I see along the way,

"I saw what you did for that boy-"

"So? Don't tell anyone, I have a reputation to uphold," I muttered next to him, sharing a grin as we walked behind Tyrion. "Us poorer folk have got to stay together."

"Poor? You? The King himself is giving you gold."

"How do you know that?" I ask.

"Each coin is marked with the mines they come from. That's Lannister gold with a small stag on it," he explains.

"Regardless, I'm still poor. Besides, you're being paid straight from the Lannisters."

We grin at each other again and walk in a more comfortable silence behind Tyrion who seems far too sober and lost in thought.

* * *

After travelling a long distance we had finally arrived in what seemed like an underground hovel to watch Tyrion hold a glass jar that had green goo in it like some medieval myth busters episode on ecto-plasm.

"Take care my lord," the old hunchback man warned.

As Tyrion twisted it in his hand, he declared, "I remember reading an old sailor's proverb; Piss on wildfire and your cock burns off."

The old man replied with great hand gestures, "I've not conducted this experiment. I-It could well be true. The substance burns so hot it melts wood, stone, even steel and of course flesh. The substance burns so hot it melts flesh like tallow."

Tyrion cautiously passed it back before sharing a look of disbelief with Bronn behind the old man's back.

"After the dragons died, wildfire was the key to the Targaryen power."

"My companion takes issue," Tyrion introduced Bronn to the conversation despite his companions overly relaxed posture.

"If I could tell you how many crazy old men I've seen pushing carts around army camps making grand claims about jars full of pig-shit! No offense, mate."

"Our order does not deal in pig shit!" The pyromancer protested. "The substance is fire given form and we have been protecting it since the days of Maegor!"

"To do what?" Bronn asked.

"The jars are put in catapults and flung at the enemy," the pyromancer answered.

"...How much of this do you have?" Tyrion inquired.

The pyromancer didn't answer verbally, instead choosing to past us.

We followed as Bronn declared, "If you could get real soldiers to man the catapults then maybe you'd hit your target one time out in ten. But all the real soldiers are in the Riverlands with your Father-"

"Nope." I pop the 'P'.

"No?" Tyrion asks.

"He had just arrived at Harrenhal when I got there. I think he left your uncle Kevan with some men," I inform him.

"My, you have been busy. I should pay you to be my private spymaster."

I shrug. "You already pay Bronn to be your personal bodyguard."

"I hope this man knows what he is insulting!" The pyromancer reminds me he's still there as he opens a door.

Bronn and I go first with Bronn holding a lamp in his left arm and a hand behind him with me holding his sleeve in my fist because fuck these stairs are steep and these dresses were not made for this architecture.

"I don't know if you've ever seen a battle old man but things can get a bit messy because when we're flinging things at Stannis, he's flinging them right back at us. Men die. Men shit themselves. Men run. Which means pots falling which means fire inside the walls which means the poor cunts trying to defend the city end up burning it down."

"My friend remains unconvinced," Tyrion summarizes as we stop outside a door which the pyromancer unlocks.

"He would not dare insult my order whilst Aerys Targaryen lived-"

"Well," Bronn began as he leaned on a wall besides the door the pyromancer was taking too long to unlock. "He's not living anymore and all his pots of wildfire didn't help, did they? Men win wars, not magic tricks."

I roll my eyes. _I've seen dragons._

The door is pulled open revealing shelves full of the sort of pots Link breaks.

As Tyrion ventures in silently, the pyromancer states, "We have been working tirelessly, day and night, ever since your royal sister commanded us to do. So far, our present count stands at 7811. Enough to burn Stannis Baratheon's fleet  _and_  his armies both."

"This is a shit idea," Bronn stated but I couldn't not agree with him.

"I'm afraid I have to concur with my advisor, Wisdom Hallyne. The contents of this room could lay King's Landing low... You won't be making wildfire for my sister anymore." Tyrion turned to face Wisdom. "You'll be making it for me," he declared.

Whilst Bronn walked inside and began to chatter with Tyrion, I asked quietly, "So, how powerful is this stuff compared to a real dragon?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Let's say a friend of mine, not really a friend, had three small dragons, how much of this stuff would be needed to equate to what they're puffing out like a vaping hipster?"

"My lady, I understood virtually none of the words that left your lips moments ago but if I understood what you meant, a single case of this wildfire could burn a ship with only a few drops."

Thanking him, I was left to think as I watched without hearing anything as if I was in a dream.

* * *

Instead of going to a pub, we headed back to the Red Keep to get pissed. Before we got to the tower of the hand, a voice called;

"My lady Slytherin!"

I groaned quietly, hearing Tyrion making his excuses before he fled with Bronn as Joffrey approached.

With a fake smile, I curtsied. "Your Grace."

"Such formality... I wish you and I did not have these moments of hostility. It displeases me."

I didn't reply and Joffrey sighed in response.

"Come, I have something to give." Joffrey offered me his arm and I took it.

* * *

"I wish to present you with this." Joffrey passed a small box to me as we sat together on a chaise lounge in his room.

"What is it?"

"It is your signet ring. Every noble house has one that only the head wears. This is the ring made for House Slytherin. With this, you can stamp your seal of approval on any document you like. I had it made for you in the silver of your house." I opened to reveal a ring of the same description. "Admittedly, it would have been beautiful in gold but I believe this makes up for it." Joffrey passed me another larger box.

"An apology gift?"

He laughed falsely. "My lady, you see right through me. I wish you had never had to see that  _display_ -"

"I've seen worse and I've enjoyed it. That was tasteless and rubbish. You want real violence, go watch boxing. The men beat each other bloody and yet they consent. You didn't even do it yourself. Why, I wonder?"

Joffrey breathes in deeply before standing up and opening the box. Lifting the necklace out of the box, he stands behind me and wraps it around my neck. The weight of the heavy choker made of emeralds and silver almost sent me toppling arse over tit.

Joffrey sat back down next to me, turning my face to his with a light hold on my chin. "Now, I'm in a giving mood-"

"Thank you, I'll send you a fruit basket but right now I've got to go." I flash a smile at him before pushing on his chest and hurrying over to the Tower of the Hand.

* * *

"Do you ever miss your home?" Bronn asked as we sat outside the chamber, waiting for Tyrion and Shae to stop fucking.

"...Yes," I answer simply.

"Why? You seem to be living it up here?"

I shrugged before pulling my knees under my chin, hugging my legs to me on the step outside the door. "

We sat in an almost silence filled with the moans from the room behind us.

"They're not going to stop fucking anytime soon, are they?" I asked.

"Probably not," Bronn confirmed.

"Wanna go to the pub?"

Bronn agreed and we went.

* * *

It was incredibly warm when I woke up, having no idea where I was so I stood up from where I had been asleep against a door and walked towards the sounds of chatter.

As I walked closer, I noticed Irri was intensely focused on mending a shoe and the noise of her work was covering my footsteps as I walked to stand behind the two women kneeling before the window sill and watching a tiny dragon.

"Dracarys," Daenerys said. The dragon let out a puff of smoke.

"Dracarys," I repeated, making Daenerys jump in shock slightly, whipping her head around to stare at me with a wide grin.

In response, the little lizard dragon reared back and exhaled fire onto the piece of meat. He began to chew on it.

"Y/N!" Daenerys jumped up and wrapped her arms around me. "My friend, how have you been?"

"Good but look at your head, you're as bald as a cue ball! People would pay to have pussies as bald as you...! And you have _dragons_?" I held her forearms as I inspected every inch of her pale skin in the beautiful white gown. "Please tell me you named one of them Smaug."

"No, that was Drogon." Daenerys turned her gaze to pogo queen who slithered a hand towards the now laid down dragon. "Doreah, let him sleep," she berated.

Like a child who had been caught dipping their hand into sweets or an adult who was slipping their hand into another woman's underwear, Doreah jerked back and hurried to stand, placing the dragon in it's box.

"My friend, we have much to catch up on... But first, we have a party to go to," Daenerys informed me.

"Yeah?"

Daenerys smiled at me. When she neared the bed, Irri showed her the shoe she had been working on and Daenerys picked up a dark blue dress with golden embroidery that she began to inspect whilst I watched Doreah carry the box to a pile of two other boxes.

"Thank you, my friend," Daenerys thanked before folding the dress and placing it on the bed.

"Did you see the dress Xaro had made for you?"

"Zoro?"

Doreah ignored me as she picked up the blue dress with golden embroidery and gold cut out bits. "They say he is the  _wealthiest_  man in Qarth."

"It is known," Irri confirmed.

"And if Qarth is the wealthiest city in Essos-" Doreah handed the dress to Daenerys.

Daenerys took it gently and tossed it in her hands as she inspected it. "The last time a rich man gave me a dress he was selling me to Khal Drogo..."

Irri says the traditional statement for those who are dead.

"Xaro's our host but we know nothing about him. Men like to talk about other men... when they're  _happy~"_ Daenerys shared a look with Doreah and they smirked at each other before Doreah took the dress back.

"Wait, did you just give her an order to whore herself out?" I whisper and receive no answer.

As Doreah lays the dress out on the bed, she states, "You would look like a real princess-"

"She's not a princess, she's a khaleesi," Irri spits. When everyone stops with awkward tension, she suggests, "You should wear it, Khalessi. You are their guest. It would be rude not to."

"Yeah wear the dress because if you spill anything, you have your own stuff to change into," I 'helpfully' suggest.

"And what will you wear, my friend?" Daenerys asks me.

"Well this works unless you have something..." At her grin, I become a little bit worried.

* * *

So, after being changed and having my hair done, I was now so many clothes down with my period finally lightening up as if it sensed I was being forced to wear a white skirt.

That was pretty much it. A beautiful white skirt that ended under my titties like Simon Cowell's trousers, embroidered with gold and colourful motifs over the crotch and ass. On my titties, I wore golden nipple pasties that were held on with a paste and a chain connected them to each other, around my back and over my shoulders. On my shoulders I wore a weird golden cape necklace made of thin chains that pooled over my bare breasts without freeing the nipple and on my hips were weird chains as well. On my feet were simple golden slip on shoes.

_The only answer I received for the attire was; "The women of Qarth reveal one breast, I am revealing none but my most confident friend can bare two."_

So here I am, standing before a women in a one-breasted golden gown, at a garden party filled with socialites, who was telling us about all Qarth had to offer; "-And you must visit the night market. It's like no night market you've ever seen."

"It sounds wonderful," Daenerys stated, all grins in her beautiful caped dress with both of her tits covered.

"The Meereenese have a similar market and I would be honoured to take you there myself. Both of you."

Meanwhile, Daenerys' face had fallen as if she'd caught someone fucking a moose dressed in her clothes before she excused us and dragged me with her.

Only when we arrived to Jorah standing with two Dothraki men around a golden statue did I kind of get what was going on.

"What are they doing?" Daenerys hissed.

"Malakko says the statue is too heavy to carry," Jorah began to explain, gesturing to the older of the two Dothraki men. "Kabara says that Malakko is an idiot. They can prey out the gems, the rest is pure gold; very soft, he can chop off as much as we can carry."

"And you're encouraging this? Jeez, no wonder you're not your dad's favourite child," I mutter as Daenerys scolds the two Dothraki me and watch Jorah flinch as if I slapped him.

The two Dothraki men walk away and I watch Daenerys sigh before gesturing us both to follow her on a walk through the gardens in a circle aiming back for the weird peacock statue.

"My brother used to say the only thing the Dothraki knew how to do is to steal things better man have built," Daenerys stated.

"It's not the only thing," Jorah replied. "They're quite good at killing the better men."

"That's not the kind of queen I'm going to be," Daenerys stated.

Before Jorah could reply, someone greeted loudly behind us, "Mother of Dragons, the Woman of the Sky! On behalf of the Warlocks of Qarth, I welcome you." The bald man in a purple dress-robe bowed before holding out a hand to Daenerys. "A demonstration."

She took it with a nervous smile as if he was just a non-dangerous man rather than a guy who looked like his eyes did Coke, his nose did meth and under his eyes were in a relationship with Chris Brown.

Placing a small green gem in her hand, he directed, "Look at it. Into it's depths... So many facets. Look closely enough and you can see yourself in them." Without letting go, he turned behind him to reveal another version of himself standing a few paces away.

"Often more than once," the clone stated.

The crowd gasped.

Pleased with the distraction, the man's lips twitched and the one before Daenerys stepped closer to her. "Should you grow tired of Xaro's baubles and trinkets, it would be an honour to host you at the House of the Undying. You are welcome to join us, Mother of Dragons." Taking my hand and dropping Daenerys, he stated, "The same for you if not more, Woman in the Sky. You are always welcome and we have much to discuss."

The crowd applauded as he left, his clone going with.

"What did you think of him?" Daenerys asked me.

"He looked like he sucked on pens," I answered.

Behind us, a voice stated, "My apologies, Pyat Pree, is one of the 13." I turned around to see a large black man dressed in a light blue and gold robe speaking directly to Daenerys who was tiny next to him. "It was customary to extend him an invitation. Customs die slow deaths in Qarth."

"What is the House of the Undying?" Daenerys inquired.

"It's in the name! Deadpool lives there!"

I was ignored as the man answered, "It is where the Warlocks go to squint at dusty books and drink Shade of the evening. It turns their lips blue and their minds soft. So soft, they actually believe their parlor tricks are magic."

Daenerys laughed slightly as she was lead away.

Jorah watched helplessly as she was lead away to a group that is literally a few feet away yet he's acting like a dog who's master just went to the shops.

"You watch over her."

We turn around to see a woman with a mask over her face, made of the same hexagons adorning her gown.

"Do I know you?" Jorah asks.

"I know you; Jorah Mormont of Bear Island. I know you as well-" her gaze shifts to me.

"Who are you?" Jorah asks.

"Oh, no one but  _she_ is the Mother of the Dragons and you-" her gaze shifts to me before going back to Jorah. "-Are the Woman in the Sky. The Mother of Dragons needs true protectors now more than ever. There shall come day and night to see the wonder born into the world again, and when they see they shall last over more than just her children-" her gaze shifts to me again before going back to Jorah. "Her dragons are fire made flesh and fire is power," she finishes her statement to Jorah before stating, "But a woman of the Gods may be more powerful yet." She then slinks off into the crowd.

"THANK YOU! THAT WASN'T CREEPY AT ALL!" I call after her.

"So..." Jorah begins, turning back to watch Daenerys.

I lean into Jorah. "Oh yeah, by the way, before I forget, your family sword's been given away by your father. To a bastard of the North. Pommel's changed to a white wolf and everything," I state. Before Jorah can reply, I'm off into the crowd and begin to socialise~

* * *

Later that evening, after I'm given a simple robe to sleep in and Daenerys has gone to bed in the same room I'm now sat in at a desk, I decide to pen my memoirs or at least use my new signet ring.

The little device on the desk, a pot of wax over a small flame, isn't enough light unless I strain my eyes so I grab one of the little dragons from a crate and use him to light a few candles and allow him to curl up on my non-writing hand as I write my first letter;

_Dear Viserys,_

~~_What up my dude?_ ~~ ~~_Let's get right into the news._ ~~

~~_How are you? Awake?_ ~~

_Your sister has short hair now._

_Also Qarth seems to be anti-nipple so we should free the nipple._

_Your friend?_

_Y/N_

_P.S. Get to Qarth. Call an Uber or something. We're having an awesome time and there's loads to tell you._

Underneath I use a piece of charcoal on the desk to scribble a picture of a dragon which turns out more like a stretched Pepe.

After rolling it up, I take the hot wax and pour a small bit on the parchment, linking the curled paper so it can't be read, before pressing my ring into it as it cools. When I draw my ring around, the imprint of a snake is imprinted in the gold wax.

After scribbling a vague address (Illyrio Mopatis' crib), I put it aside, out of the dragon's reach.

Grabbing another piece of parchment, I begin to write once more;

_Dear Willas,_

_I'm writing this to you to hopefully start a chain of communication between us as I enjoy our conversations._

_First, I now have a 'residence' in the Reach, the Nameless Keep but I haven't been there yet. Is there anything you can tell me about it?_

_Secondly, I never did receive that book on flower language. Perhaps you can teach me or read it to me the next time I arrive at Highgarden?_

_Finally, what is your favourite part of Highgarden?_

_This is a short letter but I hope I've asked enough questions to get an answer._

_From,_

_Y/N L/N of the noble house of Slytherin._

Satisfied with the level of formality, I blow on the ink until it doesn't smudge when I poke it and roll it up before stamping it as well.

I pick up a third sheet of parchment and start my final letter for the evening;

_To Jon Snow of House Stark but currently of the Night's Watch,_

_For your eyes only!_

_I hope you're okay. I'm writing this in Qarth; the greatest city there ever was or ever will be. It's pretty lit and I got out my tit-ties._

_Totally rhymed, don't crush my dreams._

_Haven't really done anything and am currently having an existential crisis._

_Hope you don't freeze your dick off._

_From;_

_Y/N L/N of the noble house of Slytherin,_

_Stormbringer_

_General Boss Ass Bitch_

_Lady Marmalade._

Once more I roll and stamp the final letter at the exact same time as the door opens revealing Irri.

"Irri, would you please have someone deliver these letters?" After she agrees, I pass them to her. Wiping my ring free of wax, I replace everything where it had been before I used it and then climb into the bed next to Daenerys.

* * *

"F-Free-Freeing the nip w-was a b-bad idea. F-Fuck it's cold," I managed to stammer out, my teeth chattering.

I closed my eyes, rubbing my hands 

"You have changed nothing-"

"And?"

"You have changed nothing," the Three-Eyed Raven repeated.

"You want change, climb out of your fucking tree and do it! I know fuck all about the plot and I can't google it because there's no fucking wi-fi and oh yeah, MY PHONE'S BROKEN!" Forgetting I'm cold, I begin to rant, "What can I change? Ned's still dead, Robert's still dead. I saved a dog and I'm making friends but I'm not the so-called chosen one! All I want to do is go home and you know what, wipe my arse with a nice bit of toilet paper. I'd even go for the really cheap shit rather than the luxurious layered version because honestly anything would feel better than a sponge on a stick or using a rag! If I am to change anything, teach me how to travel because this is really inconvenient to travel through sleep!"

"...Time flows as do your thoughts."

"...That's it? THAT'S IT?" I shriek, "It's borderline narcolepsy which would be fine if I wanted to avoid people but I need to brush my teeth and wiping my arse would be nice, especially now that blood is pooling into my butt-crack."

The Three-Eyed Raven would have sighed if he could have. Instead he stated, "Your mind must focus before you can."

"Brilliant. So, what? If I focus on let's say Harrenhal hard enough, I'll appear there?" I clap my hands over my eyes and focus on the crumbling shit-heap along with the face of Tywin Lannister.

* * *

When I take my hands off of my face, it's to the sight of Harrenhal in it's entirety.

"Fuck me in the arse with a crucifix it worked," I mutter to myself. Spotting a guard, I march over to him, lifting the bottom of the gown and demanding, "Take me to Tywin Lannister. Now."

* * *

The walk had taken a long time because these shoes kept slipping off but eventually the meeting room door was opened to reveal the meeting room table full of men and Arya bustling about.

"-Perhaps we'd profit from some sleep," one of the men at the table suggested as he picked at the food in front of him.

"As I think you would, Reginald," Tywin, easily triggered, began. "And because you're my cousin I might even let you wake from that sleep. Go. I'm sure your wife must miss you."

"My wife's in Lannisport-"

"Well then you'd better start riding. Go, before I change my mind and send her your head," Tywin ordered as the man began to stand. "If your name wasn't Lannister, you would be scrubbing out pots in the cooks' tent. GO!"

The man fled and in doing so left a seat other than the one facing Tywin free.

Still in the shadows, I began to walk forwards into the light of the meeting room.

Balls Drop So Far Into The Earth They Come Out The Other Side announced my presence, "The Lady Y/N L/N of House Slytherin to see you, my lord."

"My lord," I greeted and curtsied.

"My lady. Please, have a seat." It wasn't a request when he gestured to the seat opposite him so I complied.

When Arya came to his side with a pitcher, he covered his glass. "Not wine - water. We'll be here for sometime." As she walked away from him, around the back of his chair, he called, "Girl. Where are you from?"

_Don't do anything stupid._

"Maidenpool, my lord," she answered.

"And who are the Lords of Maidenpool, remind me?" Tywin requested.

"House Mooton, my lord."

"And what is their sigil?" Arya gazed around lost at each member of the table before her eyes landed on me when Tywin decided to answer himself, "A red salmon. I would think a Maidenpool girl would remember that. You're a Northerner aren't you?"

My knuckles were white at this point as I held my skirts in my hands.

"Good," Tywin stated. "One more time, where are you from?"

"Barrowton, my Lord," Arya lied. "House Dustin; two crossed longaxes with black shafts beneath a black crown."

"And what do they say of Robb Stark in the North?"

Arya held Tywin's gaze, the tundra of the North in her voice and fire in her eyes as she replied, "They call him the Young Wolf."

"And?"

"They say he rides into battle on the back of a giant direwolf. They say he can turn into a wolf himself when he wants. They say he can't be killed."

Tywin smirked. "And do you believe them?"

"No, my lord. Anyone can be killed," Arya stated.

_Holy shit if I wasn't prepared to shit myself, I sure was ready to paint the walls brown now._

"Fetch that water," Tywin ordered after his stare off with Arya ended and I felt the air rush back to my lungs.

Soon she left and I was able to sit and pick at the fruit available to me.

Thank whoever for Lorenah and her book because it's teachings helped me learn that as long as I ate slowly, I would never be asked for my opinion and I wouldn't be able to give away any ticks if I lied.

I'm a woman in a mainly man's world, I can use that to my advantage.

So I sat and I listened.

* * *

After the meeting, Tywin and I stayed in our exact seats and as everyone else left to complete their orders.

"If you hadn't been announced properly this time, I wouldn't have known you had begun to charge more for your land's production," Tywin began.

"You have as much money to spare as I do resources. Besides, a little bird told me your money's beginning to drain." That was a lie but fuck it, I wanted to see where this ended.

He didn't snarl at me but instead opened his mouth to say something before the door opened.

Arya came back and we fell back into silence as we both observed her fill his goblet and then mine.

"Let's cut the small talk, my Lord. What is it you really want to know?"

"You journey often to other lands and even the far stretches of this land. Tell me, do you ever go North?" Tywin asked.

I avoided Arya's heavy gaze as I replied, "If you're asking me to spy on Robb Stark, I refuse. If you're asking me to venture North for you and bring back supplies, I also refuse. Anything you offer I will refuse unless you're willing to allow yourself to believe I won't do the same to you."

"You're smart, I'll give you that, my lady. Brave also. But bravery-" Tywin compliments.

"-Is not a quality of my house, my lord," I reply.

Tywin smirked at me. "Then inform me what is."

"House Slytherin; those cunning folk will use any means to achieve their ends. My house's words should be enough for you to figure out. Thank you for the meal and seeing me today, my lord. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I must be off."

"Off where?" he asked.

"Lord Tywin, the first rule of power tactics; power is not only what you have but what the enemy thinks you have."

"Am I your enemy?"

"That remains to be seen. Good day Lord Tywin."

With that, I sweep out of the room and find a small dark corner to crouch in until I fall asleep or settle on a place to appear in.


	29. Peasant Mosh Pit (Chapter 28)

_Finally, I decided to check on Winterfell because surely everything was fine, right?_

* * *

_I was wrong. So very wrong. Almost as wrong as my mother was when she decided not to swallow the jizz that contained the sperm that fertilised the egg and made me._

The room I appeared in was the chamber in which and gazing down to the courtyard below I could see people being dragged through by people in armour with weird squids on them.

_Ironborn..._

So I hurried down with a plan.

"Come on mystical bullshit, don't fail me now," I muttered as I ran.

* * *

When I reached the courtyard, a guy with a weird Bombur type beard thing in white like my dress that was slowly becoming visible who I recognised as Rodrik Cassel was knelt before Theon who held in his hands the long shaft of his sword raised high.

"STOP!" My voice echoed over the sobs and the now almost howling rain, the walls of Winterfell's courtyard containing the sound.

The Iron Born fell to their knees at the sight of me as I marched forwards, the rain beginning to pelt our skin, getting heavier with each step I took towards them yet Theon still stood, his grip seeming to waver as I grew closer until I was the other side of Rodrik.

"Don't you dare-" I began to warn, not sure what else I was going to say because I had almost no authority and wasn't sure what I would do.

"I will! I do dare!"

I lifted my head eye, gazing at him down my nose and stated gravely, "You do this Theon, and there will come a time when everything is taken from you; your mind, your spirit and even from your body. There  _will_  come a time when everything you hold dear is ripped away as you are ripping things away from these people and I will laugh in your face." The wind howled as the rain began to howl around me, my skirts whipping with the force of it all.

"Defy her and face the Drowned God's wrath. Obey," hissed a larger man who was still knelt on the floor.

"Now, Theon Greyjoy, you are truly lost," Rodrik stated.

Theon sneered. "I am a Greyjoy. My blood is salt and I will make him pay the iron price," Theon proclaimed before swinging his sword down into Rodrik's neck. He swung it once more and once more after that before kicking his head until it snapped off.

As the body fell to the ground, unsupported, I stormed away.

"DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME!" Theon roared at my back.

Behind me I could hear someone berating him on the Woman of the Sea and angering the Sea God but I was too focused on getting out of there so I stormed past the men

 _Get me away from here. Anywhere. Oh God I need to tell Robb._   _No not Robb, he's probably going to have heard by the time I get there and Arya receives news almost directly and I'm not in men's clothes for the Night's watch to talk with Jon..._

_Sansa. I need to talk to Sansa._

* * *

Nym washed and cared for me in silence this time when I arrived almost vomiting, the tension only starting when she stopped at the blood splatters on my dress rather than the mud, not even being able to blame it on my period because my vag wasn't a broken sprinkler and my period had now slowed to nothing.

Because my armpits were shaved, I was placed in a sleeveless blue gown over a corset, the silk at the bottom  starting at my thighs much darker and apparently easy to rip (it was included in the tailor's notes as this was just a practise dress for fabrics I may like). Simple slippers and a blue hand fan were given to me along with dangling earrings, a necklace, and a hair comb and a ring - all golden. I refused the jewellery and placed my signet ring in a safe place.

My leg brace came in handy, once and for all so I used it again, momentarily missing my phone as I tipped the bag it was usually in onto the floor revealing it's shattered remains from when I was whacked. Tying a small knife to it that should have been used only for cutting something for my dinner one of the Nalor sisters informed me.

The door slammed opened whilst my hair was being fixed into an up-do, my flowered hair comb only being slid in quick enough for me to stand up and support myself before the younger woman slammed into me.

"I refused to leave without seeing you!"

_This was not Sansa._

I stroked a hand over her hair, smoothing down her long golden locks as she sobbed into my dress for a long time, looking over her head and meeting Emma's gaze as she stood waiting for me at the door with a shawl for me in blue next to the cream shawl for her in Emma's hands.

Myrcella looked up at me, slowly relinquishing her grip until she only held me by the fabric of my skirt. "Today, I go to Dorne! I don't want to leave but I must... Will you come see me off?" Her teary emerald eyes gazed up at me and I could only answer with a nod, letting her take my hand and drag me away.

* * *

I stood with Emma at my side with the royals listening to a septon drone on, "...May the Seven guide the Princess on her journey. May the Mother give her health..."

Myrcella meanwhile was snotting up a storm in the boat she was now sat in, gazing back at us, as she was rowed away.

To the right of me because Myrcella had insisted I stay near her Mother so she could see us both and Cersei hadn't really complained, Cersei began to talk to Tyrion, stating, "One day I pray you love someone. I pray you love her so much that when you close your eyes you see her face. I want that for you. I want you to know what it's like to love someone, to  _truly_  love someone before I take her from you."

Tyrion turned, glaring in disgust and then left completely.

I took the handkerchief Myrcella had given me, among her other presents to me which were to be delivered to my room, with her embroidery and passed it to Cersei wordlessly, barely paying attention to when Joffrey began to leave.

* * *

Once Myrcella had turned the corner, not visible to us anymore, the rest of us made to leave.

Watching the hard glares and the snarls of people who probably eat on a monthly basis of what the earrings, I could have worn, cost, I began to feel a bit wary and moved closer to Emma.

"My lady, what's wrong?"

"Listen to me, the minute shit goes down you head back to the Red Keep. Leave me behind if you must but when shit hits the fan, you leave, understand?" Before she could protest, I repeated, "Understand?"

Emma nodded and we began to walk in silence behind Cersei and between three guards - one at my back and two at our sides.

The people shouted down things at Joffrey as he passed ahead of us and my grip on my fan tightened as well as my grip on Emma's arm.

Suddenly, Tommen was steered past us by guards and I began to truly brace myself.

Suddenly, something flew towards Joffrey, hitting him in the face and the guards were drawing their swords.

As the guards began to fight back against the rebelling peasants, I ordered Emma to go with the guards that were at my side as I started to look for Sansa.

_Gotta keep my promise to Ned if not just being decent._

Finally, I spotted her being abandoned by her handmaidens.

"SANSA!" I hike up my skirts and hurry out into the throng, people hitting me as they fled in all directions. When the crowd became too thick, I lost sight of her.

"SANSA!"

Someone grabbed onto me by the skirt, dragging me towards them.

"The little bird isn't going to respond now go back," Sandor growled at me.

"I'm only going back when she's safe because if people can survive Coachella, you bet I can survive a peasant mosh pit." With that I wrenched myself out of his grip by ripping the silk off of my skirt completely and running the way I saw Sansa go.

* * *

As I ran through the streets after brief flashes of auburn or pink silk, I witnessed people eating each other, the death and even worse, the rape.

One of those girls would be forever in my mind with her dress ripped completely off of her as men swarmed her, her cornflower hair strewn around the blood and shit-stained cobbles as she wailed.

Finally I found her with four men towering over her, her sobbing echoing throughout the small room they had dragged her to.

Two men held her legs apart, one held her arms over her as another man made to get his dick out.

Sneaking closer, I got behind the man getting his cock out, raised my blade above him and with a deep thrust plunged it so far into his neck the spurt of blood I received was almost instant. His body flopped onto the man to his left.

Everything after that happened so fast.

"She's made herself ready," one of them commented.

The blade was ripped from my hand, turning on me and slashing against my side and I was tossed to the floor besides Sansa, tucking my legs close to me and ready to rear back.

Suddenly, as if all of my many misdoings were to be rewarded, Sandor appeared and pulled one of them up by his throat. He punctured his torso and his insides flopped out.

When one of the weird leg men made to leap at Sandor, he simply tossed the other man at him and in their moment of surprise split them in two.

As one of them leaped over us to get to Sandor, they landed heavily on my leg with an awful crack that almost made me scream.

The last one who had been watching in a corner begged but soon his words were silenced by a sword to the throat.

As Sansa sobbed and gasped, Sandor offered her a hand. "You're alright little bird. You're alright." He pulled her up and placed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

When he flicked his gaze to me and the blood patch forming on my side I managed to choke out, "I'll manage and you need your sword. Get her somewhere safe, she's in shock."

I probably was too because I couldn't feel anything.

He offered me the hand not holding onto Sansa and gave me the same treatment and soon we were carried out with me on the verge of passing out.

* * *

Suddenly, I was sat down with my back against something cool.

"My lady, are you alright?"

"Of course she's not alright," someone hissed but I ignored them to gaze at the knight leaving.

"Sandor!" I called after him who didn't turn around. "Thank you." Seeing Sansa at his side, probably being escorted to a maester, I felt relieved until the pain began to start.

With that I decided now was a good enough time to pass out.

* * *

When I woke up, it was to me in basically my underwear (my leg brace, a bandage on one side and none of my corset with no actual underwear) in a bed with clothes on top.

Deciding it was best to get dressed and explore, I hurried to do so to find it was a simple turtleneck tunic in black with trousers that I needed to adjust a little to fit (with rolling and stretching like it was an Olympic sport only so that my clothes didn't look like I was hulking out in them) and a pair of simple boots like the ones I had worn the first time I had come to Harrenhal as I judged by the crumbling walls and peering out of the window I spotted lots of dead people.

So I decided to make my way to the meeting hall.

* * *

As I waited outside, I decided that walking at the moment was not really my friend as I had nearly fallen down a flight of stairs, had fallen up one though and generally felt my body protest against it and breathing.

Footsteps alerted me to someone else's presence so I turned, immediately wishing I hadn't at the sight of Littlepecker's smug face.

"What are _you_ doing here?" _God if I hadn't lost my knife I would have done nothing but I like to think I would stab him and then punch him so he only feels the punch._

"I could ask the same of you but I do not have the time-"

"Funny neither do I."

A knight had apparently followed Petyr and asked me my name, title and business so I told him very simply.

* * *

After knocking on the door, only about an hour after first asking me anything so we just all stood in silence, the knight passed us and walked into the room after knocking and announced us; "Lord Petyr Baelish and Lady Y/N L/N of House Slytherin."

"Give us the room" Tywin orders his remaining members of the room who complied without question, filing past us. "Clear all this," Tywin orders someone else in the room.

"Lord Tywin," Baelish greets as he walks ahead of me.

"Baelish."

Not discouraged by the look on his face, or the dismissive tone, Baelish wanders right in with his weird sash held on by his mockingbird pin on his right shoulder, sitting down on Tywin's left.

"My Lord," I greet as I curtsy at the door.

"My lady, please... sit." Tywin gestures to his left where Arya is clearing up so I curtsy once more and comply.

"My Lord, would it not be better to discuss this in private without certain others who have links with the North?" Baelish suggests.

"Oh yes because _my_  priority is _clearly_ your beloved Cat and everything about her, isn't it?" I smirked at him as he twitched.

"Wine?" Tywin asks.

"Thank you," Baelish excepts.

"Water, if you please, my Lord," I answer and feel a Grinch grin threaten to grow at more of Baelish's twitches.

_It's like complying who gets to be the favourite child._

As I sit, in the reflection of one of the cups I see Arya flinch and I breathe deeply in the hopes that I don't give her away.

"What news from the Capital?"

"I actually came here directly from Renly Baratheon's camp," Petyr explained. A cup was placed down next to him and Arya began to pour wine into it.

"Ah, the late King Renly. Rather a short reign," Tywin commented. "Murdered by a woman, I hear."

"So they say."  _So Gwen Christie is still an angel in this world?_  "There has been talk of  _other_ forces at work, forces that cannot be controlled-" Baelish flicks his gaze at me and his lip slides into a small smirk.  _Oh go tug on your moustache and die in a fire._ "-dark forces."

Tywin gestured for his own cup to be filled, holding it out. "Men love to blame demons when their grand plans unravel." His cup was filled and he began to sip from it as Arya walked back and placed the pitcher back up, swapping it for what I assume was water.

"It is my belief that a moment of chaos affords opportunities lost soon after-"

"You say that as if you were the first man alive to think it."  _I love the look on Baelish's face as if his dreams are being fucked before his eyes._ _If you could sell this feeling it would make more than an elixir for orgasms on command._  " _Yes,_ a crisis is an opportunity. What other  _brilliant_  insights have you brought for me today?"

_Yes Petyr, please do share with the class._

"After the Lannisters and the Starks, the Tyrells command the largest host. Their lands are the most fertile in the Seven Kingdoms, feeding-"

"Yes, yes I know about that. After all, House Slytherin governs one of the largest trade routes in the Reach that even my House deals with," Tywin almost compliments.

"The Tyrells have not declared for any of the surviving kings. Loras wants revenge. He blames Stannis for Renly's death and Margaery..." Baelish trails off.

Tywin makes a noise of understanding as he places down his wine cup after another drink. "And Margaery wants to be queen."

"Yes, she does," Petyr agreed, looking way too satisfied as he smirks and then takes a drink.

"House Tyrell rebelled against the Iron Throne. Against my grandson."

"They did and perhaps that treason should be punished, one day after Stannis and Robb Stark are defeated," Petyr stated.

"More wine for Lord Baelish," Tywin ordered. "And bring Lady L/N some water."

"Thank you."

Petyr's gaze chased Arya as she moved, almost in recognition which almost made me kick him if not for self-restraint. Finally it returned to Tywin and he stated more than suggested, "You will allow me to represent your family's interest. I believe that an advantageous-"

"The Tyrells have returned to Highgarden."

"They have..."

Arya spilt wine onto the table before Baelish. As she began to mop it up with a rag she apologised, "Pardon, my Lord."

"It's only wine." His gaze began to shift around her body to stare at her face, her body turned away from him.

"You would ride there yourself?" Tywin's question brought Baelish's head back around.

"Tonight with your leave."

"Then I'll have an answer by nightfall... That'll be all girl!" Tywin raised his volume, almost scaring the poor girl out of her skin.

"What else?" Tywin asked, his gaze solely on Baelish.

"On your son Tyrion's directive, I met with Catelyn Stark-"

"Why?"

"He had an interesting proposal for her concerning her daughters..." Baelish's gaze returned to Arya. "Perhaps it would be best to discuss them-"

"If you're not willing to say anything in front of two women, write it down," Tywin ordered before asking, "Anything else?"

As Baelish turned to write down on a piece of parchment, I decided to speak up whilst Arya brought me a cup;

" _I_ have news from the Capital and the North, my Lord." I waited for him to gesture before I continued, locking eyes with Arya in the reflection of my cup, "The people rioted the day Myrcella was sent to Dorne. Your children are fine as are your grandchildren. Sansa Stark was almost met with a terrible fate at the hands of five men who are now dead as Sandor Clegane and I intervened so her...maidenhood is still intact. Suffice to say, the people are hungry and coin should  _really_ be managed unless there is a want for more raping, killing and pillaging."

"And of the North?"

Arya filled up my pitcher, her knuckles white against the shined silver.

I flippantly replied, "My, now that would be telling. But unfortunately not all of us like to set ourselves up for disappointment."

"What are you implying?" Baelish asked.

"I'm not implying anything. You betrayed Ned Stark, why wouldn't you betray the Lannisters if a better deal arrived that granted you your end goal?"

"What about you-"

I roll my eyes. "Baelish, please stop embarrassing yourself, it's unsightly."

Before he could respond, Tywin raised his voice, silencing us, "Enough!" Turning to me he asked, "What would it take for you to elaborate?"

"I could present your family's interests. After all, I know members of your family and we do trade together."

Baelish's teeth ground together but turned to write once more.

"No," Tywin refused. "I believe it best for Baelish to go. Baelish, you will ride tonight?"

"Yes, my Lord." Petyr passed 

"Then you may go now, Lord Baelish," Tywin dismissed him.

As he left, I called, "Bye Petyr~"

Tywin read the letter before folding it and placing it into his tunic breast pocket before asking me, "Do you really wish to present my family's interests?"

"Not particularly but did you see the look on his face?" I admitted, almost laughing at the memory.

_I so wish for my phone._

Tywin's lip cracks more than it twitches in the midst of his stony expression, almost smiling.


	30. Pumpkin Spice Latte and Say No To This (Chapter 29)

For some reason, I had been invited to dinner with Tywin after being taken to a small room and being allowed to read books (Lannister history because you couldn't let your ego go without stroking it for an hour if you were a Lannister) left with me before I was fetched back to the meeting room in the mid-afternoon, bordering on evening.

Tywin had greeted me at the door and began to lead me to the table where Arya seemed focused on something.

Hoping to distract him I began a bit too loudly, "Lord Tywin you are a most gracious host. Clothes, food and books; whatever else is a girl to ask for..." Except diamonds, a Lamborghini, unlimited wi-fi...

Arya fell back to her duties quickly but apparently my distraction wasn't enough as he asked Arya, "Who taught you how to read?"

"My father, my lord."

"I taught my son Jaime to read," Tywin admitted. "The maester came to me one day, told me he wasn't learning. He couldn't make sense of the letters. He reversed them in his head. The maester said e'd heard tell of this affliction and that we simply must accept it." Tywin scoffed. "After that, I sat Jaime down for four hours everyday until he learnt. He hated me for it - for a time. For a long time. But he learned."

"I don't think he hated you," I stated as I sat down.

Tywin hummed a noise of acknowledgement, his lip twitching as if to crack into a smile or a murderous frown, can't quite tell, and turned to Arya before asking, "Where is your father? Is he alive?" I flinched and Arya failed to respond before Tywin asked once more, "Who was he?"

"A... stonemason," Arya lied.

"A stonemason who could read?"

"He taught himself," Arya informed him as if she wasn't lying yet I was the one almost about to break into a sweat.

"Quite a man," Tywin complimented. "What killed him?"

"Loyalty." Arya met Tywin's inquisitive gaze as he loomed over her.

_How is he not thinking; sounds like something that would happen to a Stark?_

He smirked. "You're a sharp little thing, aren't you?"

As he turned to pull out his own chair to sit down in, Arya spoke up; "Did... Forgive me, my lord. I shouldn't ask questions."

"No," Tywin agreed as he finally pulled out his chair but did not sit in it. "But you've already begun."

"Did you know your father, my lord?" Arya asked.

_Lord Tytos Lannister; a drunk who was kind yet foolish as he gave away all his money. Sounds a bit like Tyrion._

"I did," Tywin answered. "I grew up with him." Tywin stood up and offered me a hand which I took and together we sat in the chairs by the fire, staring into it. "I watched him grow old. He loved us. He was a good man, but a weak man. A weak man who nearly destroyed our house and name."

I could hear the paper flutter when Arya had taken it.

"I'm cold. So is my guest," Tywin turned as he informed Arya.

"I'll fetch more wood for the fire, my lord."

Tywin nodded and I waited for her footsteps to almost disappear.

"For what it's worth you must really love your son to have taught him so much a father who has done the things you felt you must..." I commented.

Tywin didn't reply, simply stared into the fire, the phantom of a crack on his face.

"What I don't get is your hatred of Tyrion beyond the similarities and deformities..."

"Enough. There will be no more of this," Tywin ordered and so I complied knowing I could lie in wait with this particular bit of bait.

* * *

I had passed out for the first time in what felt like a long time, been shoved into a golden gown with blue accessories I was barely able to recognise and rushed into standing inside someone's house whilst Daenerys paced and complained, Xaro standing patiently next to me.

Meanwhile, I looked down at my bare tit and wondered how much wind it would take for the other one to become visible because I had no pasties this time and only one strap. My wrists jangled when I shook them, encircled in gold and turquoise bangles and a pair of turquoise shoes that had a gold chain encircling my ankle that made sure the high heel, oddly accurate sizing, stayed on.

"You could have avoided this embarrassment if you married the richest man in Qarth," Xaro stated.

"I already have a husband," Daenerys countered, still pacing.

"Khal Drogo is gone Khaleesi. You are far too young to be a widow forever and far too beautiful~"

"Hold on a second, you were just talking about her dead rap-"

"You are far too smart to think that I will succumb to flattery," Daenerys ignored me to counter once more.

"I have travelled very far in my life. I've met many women and yet none that are immune to flattery-"

"THE MOTHER OF DRAGONS!"

"Here he comes," Xaro uselessly narrated the arrival of the fat orange-like guy who was dressed almost as one, came down the stairs with a small entourage.

He stopped halfway down the stairs, calling down, "Forgive me. I had the most terrible dreams last night. Terrible dreams! I could not sleep until the sun was shining and the birds were singing. What a beauty you are now that the Red Waste has been washed off of you!" He began to walk back down the stairs. "I am sorry about all that unpleasantness... Ah, the silver hair of a  _true_ Targaryen has finally begun to sprout!" The man pointed out, his gaze drawn to the small fuzz on top of Daenery's head.

"If you think Daenerys' hair is impressive, you should see her brother's," I state.

"Forgive me but... I don't believe we've been introduced." The spice king stopped at the joint of the stairs which faced us.

I cursty. "A pleasure, sir. I am Y/N L/N of the noble Westeron House of Slytherin-"

"Ah yes, now I know who you are," the Spice King as flamboyantly as he could proclaimed, "A fine trade you've begun with us this summer, your produce is said to be among the best in the Reach and your mines as plentiful as your beauty is evident."

"You flatter me. Thank you. I hope our trade is mutually beneficial for years to come," I compliment.

"Did my servants not offer you something to eat? To drink?" The Spice King asked. When he received no answer he stated, "I'll have them flogged in the square-"

Daenerys rose the volume of her voice as she stepped closer to the bottom of the stairs. "Thank you my lord, you are a gracious host but there is no servant alive that can bring me what I want."

"Oh, she has a flair for drama, this one~" The Spice King jested. I awkwardly laughed alongside the Spice King and co. "So my little princess, what is it you want?"

Isn't of lashing out as triggered as her eyes betrayed her to be, she simply announced, "My birthright; the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros!"

"I fear I'm no better than a servant in this regard," the Spice King replied. "I cannot give you what I do not have."

"I'm not asking you for the Kingdoms-"

"Why not say that in the first place?"

"-I'm asking you for ships. I need to cross the Narrow Sea-"

"I need my ships as well," Pumpkin Spiced Latte replied. "I  _use_  them, you see, to bring spices from one port to another-"

"Whatever you grant me now will be repaid three times over when I retake the Iron Throne," Daenerys offered.

I flinched at her choice of words. Not the most convincing argument.

"Retake?" Echoed the Pumpkin King. "Did you once sit on the Iron Throne?"

"My father sat there before he was murdered," Daenerys answered.

"If you did not sit on it yourself, would it not be correct to say  _take_  the Iron Throne?"

"I didn't come here to argue grammar-"

"Of course not," Pumpkin Patch retorted before beginning to walk down to our level. "You came to take my ships. So let me explain  _my_  position, little princess." He stopped halfway again.  _Seriously is he using a medieval escalator?_ "Unlike you, I do not have exalted ancestors. I make my living, much like the lady you stand with, by trade, and I judge every trade on its merits. You ask for ships. You say I shall be repaid triple. I do not doubt your honesty or your intentions but before you repay your debts, you must  _seize_  the Seven Kingdoms. Do you have an army?"

"...Not yet," Daenerys answered.

"You do not have an army," Spice Girl repeated. "Do you have powerful allies in Westeros... Other than the Lady Slytherin, of course?"

Standing her ground, Daenerys stated, "There are many that support my claim-"

"When were you there last?"

"I left when I was a baby," Daenerys answered.

Posh Spice summarised, "So in truth you have no allies-"

"The people _will_ rise to fight for their rightful Queen, when I return."

That seemed to catch Paprika's interest as he began, "Ah! Forgive me little princess but I cannot make an investment based on wishes and dreams. Now if you'll pardon me." He began to turn on the stairs.

"Do you know Illyrio Mopatis?" Daenerys blurted out. "Magister of Pentos?"

Definitely Not Fairy Godmother But In Orange turned back. "We've met. A shrewd man-"

"For my wedding he gave me three petrified dragon eggs," Daenerys stated out of seemingly nowhere. "He believed... the  _world_ believed that the ages had turned them to stone. How many centuries had it been since dragons roamed the skies but I dreamt and if I carried those eggs into a great fire, they would hatch! When I stepped into the fire, my own people thought I was mad but when the fire burned out, I was unharmed-"

"You lost your hair," I muttered.

"-The Mother of Dragons!" Daenerys began to climb the steps. "Do you understand? I'm no ordinary woman. My dreams come true."

Pumpkin Patches of Hair because he's almost as bald as Varys took a step down to loom over Daenerys as he stated, "I admire your passion but in business, I trust in logic not passion. I'm sorry little princess." He turned away once more.

"I am NOT your little princess!" Daenerys began to follow am him, triggered to the extreme, "I am Daenerys Stormborn of the blood of Old Valyria and I will take what is mine with fire and blood, I will take it!"

"Yes my lady, but not with my ships."

Daenerys whirled around and stormed off. Passing me, Xaro followed at her heels and I slowly began to follow them.

"My lady!" His voice called down to me.

I stopped, turning back and walking back over to the steps. "Yes?"

"If you ever wish to discuss business, my door is open as it is if you wish to become my personal guest. I would be honoured," Ginger Spice offered.

"Thank you for your kind offer. I will think on it." I bid him farewell and hurried after Daenerys.

* * *

"The Spice King refuses me because I'm a bad investment. The Silk King won't support me because of his business with the Lannisters, why offend his best customer? And the Copper King offers me a single ship on the condition that I lie with him for a night and a few men to man it if Y/N lays with him also. Does he think I will whore myself for a boat?"

Xaro said nothing for a few seconds before beginning, "When I came to this city, I had nothing. Truly, nothing. I slept by the docks and when I could find work loading the ships I would eat, if not I dreamed of food. Today, I am the richest man in Qarth. Do you think the path from poverty to wealth is always pure and honourable? I have done many things Khaleesi that a righteous man would condemn-" at the bottom of the stairs Xaro stopped and turned to her before gesturing to his home with one arm. "-and here I am, with no regrets."

He opened the gate allowing Daenerys and I to walk into the blood-stained courtyard, littered with the bodies of the rather pale Dothraki men who were set as guards.

With a staggering first step, Daenerys began to run to where her room was, with me behind behind fucking heels man and not everyone can be Catwoman.

"BAR THE GATES!" Xaro ordered behind us. "RING THE BELLS!"

More men came through.

I could hear Xaro behind us as he called, "SLOWLY KHALESSI!"

* * *

Daenerys' room was almost pristine except for the empty cages and the blue lipped corpse of Irri sprawled on the floor.

Daenerys collapsed at her side as I loitered at the door, not willing to touch another dead body in recent times.

Instead of focusing on her dead friend, Daenerys seemed to have other priorities. "Where are they?" Daenerys shrieked, clutching onto the dead body of her servant who she didn't seem to mourn, "WHERE ARE MY DRAGONS?"

* * *

After leaving the room, I had swiped a blue cloth on the bed to use as a shawl to cover my nip because it was starting to feel a little tingly in the hot sun. I enjoyed the golden scenery around me as I listened to Xaro talk behind me, Daenerys urging me along beside her.

Xaro began to state, "I have demanded a meeting of the Thirteen. One of them did this or knows who did-"

"You  _are_  one of the Thirteen," Daenerys and I stated.

"Jinx! You owe me a drag-"

"If I wanted your dragons I would have taken them. They mean nothing to me on their own," Xaro stated.

Daenerys turned at the top of the stairs, as she asked, shocked, "Nothing? They mean more than anything in the world!"

Xaro gripped onto his weird necklace. "Shall we look inside my vault and see what selling your dragons would buy me which I cannot buy already? We  _will_ get them back."

"There is no we-" Daenerys snapped.

"Hurtful," I muttered.

"Not you," she muttered back before asking Xaro, "So why would _you_ help  _me_  get them back?"

"I took you under my protection under the rulers of my city. A man is what others say he is and no more. If they say that Xaro-"

"You've clearly never been to school before because one time I got called a slut and I hadn't even touched that guy's dick... Shutting up now..." I trailed off at Daenerys' quick glare before her gaze focused back on Xaro.

Apparently the two had been talking as they rambled as Daenerys exclaimed, "I don't care where you've been!" Taking my hand she proceeded to take the last steps before turning the corner away from Xaro.

Before she entered the room, I withdrew my hand.

"I will see you later but I need to go check on other people.

"Return back to me please," Daenerys pleaded.

After agreeing she went into the room and I decided I would check and see how Sansa was doing.

* * *

Sansa was doing horribly.

I had appeared at her side, just as she jolted awake screaming and latched onto me with a tight grip. Her grip was so tight her knuckles were almost as white as her paler than usual face.

"What's..." I began, averting when my gaze when Sansa kicked off the top cover began peeling up her skirt. At her shocked panting, I looked back as she revealed the massive blood-stain beneath her.

Sansa leapt out of the bed, racing over to the table in her room to grab a knife.

"Oh shit. Okay, calm down!" I yanked the knife from her, dropping it on the floor with a clatter because I'm a stupid cunt and I grabbed the blade.

"Help me," Sansa begged, grabbing onto my bloody hand. "Please help me!"

"Alright, alright. The fire!" We began to lift the mattress off of the bed, the door creaking open.

I ignored it and pushed it towards Sansa. Once it was over her side, I rushed around, barely glancing at the figure of Shae who stood in the doorway before closing it behind her. The fire roared despite it being a warm morning and I began to single-handedly shove this mattress into the flames, determined to help.

"What are you doing?" Shae asked.  _Why is Shae here unless..._

"If the Queen sees... I can have Joffrey's children now!" Sansa stated breathlessly as if she was running with hounds of hell at her heels.

"Help me flip it over!"

"No time... The fire!" As the girls joined my side in the effort to push the mattress in, it was almost at the stain, the door creaked open.

Whipping our heads over, we gaped at the figure of a girl who soon rushed away, Shae at her heels.

Returning to our job I began to notice the clouds of smoke billowing out and staining our skin. Sansa began to dry heave as I coughed yet forced my way through, despite the heaviness of my body and my lungs' protests.

The stain was out of sight but so was everything. Only the heavy beating of my heart reverberating in my ears and the scream I let out as my bleeding hand scraped against something as my body was lifted and carried away.

* * *

"My lady, your hand..." Emma knelt at my side, grabbing it and ordering for water and a maester.

"'M fine..." I mumbled, my head lolling back and clanking against something metallic. I could barely register anything except when someone stuck their finger in the wound and I began to yank it away, resulting in my limp hand moving as much as a single man would move if he had a life time supply of tissues, lotion and guttering around his bed.

"Here." A cup is pressed against my lips and something slips past my lips, the glint of metal catching my eye.

Whatever it was I was given, it was working because holy shit someone had a metal arm!

"Are you Robo-Cop?" I asked before my eyes clamped shut and I was asleep so suddenly...

* * *

After Daenerys had given me a cloth to rub my skin which Emma had not tended to with a damp cloth, I was given basically an identical outfit and now sat on the floor tracing the new scar on my palm as the Thirteen argued, Xaro sat on a chair before the curved table.

Surprising how so little can change and yet in the time it took for me to get here, my hand had already sealed over from whatever I caught it on.

"I did not leave the comfort of my home to come to yours and be called a thief!" Orange Juice exclaimed, bringing my attention away from the small paper cut except bigger.

"No one is calling you a thief," Xaro stated.

"Mm, except you are? You're asking which one of them took it without consent which is stealing which means you're accusing them of being a thief-" I explained.

"Y/N?" Daenerys addressed me.

"Yeah?"

"Please be quiet," she hissed like I was an insolent child.

"Will do."

Daenerys turned to the crowd once more, standing in front of me as she pleaded, "I'm begging you, please, they're my children! I'm begging you-"

"Begging us?" One of the thirteen I had not met before echoed. "It wasn't very long ago you were threatening us."

"Without me the dragons will die!"  _Is she feeding them at her tit? WTF?_

"It will be for the best. Your dragons will bring the world nothing but death and misery, my dear. If I knew where they were, I would not tell you," the child of a Weasley, Hagrid and probably Dobby stated in his weird orange jumpsuit.

Smurf Mouth spoke up, "You are cruel, my friend."  _The only cruel one is whoever let you go outside like you painted someone's dick and decided to roll your mouth around it like an AIDS riddled condom._ "The Mother of Dragons is in the right. She must be reunited with her babies!" Turning like a shaved owl to Daenerys he offered, "I will help you, Khalessi!"

"...How?"

"I will take you to the House of the Undying where I have put them."

"YOU?! YOU HAVE MY DRAGONS?"

"Are you really shocked? He does his whole borderline shrine builder routine and you're shocked it's the weird looking fucker. Anyone want to put money on Xaro being involved somehow especially since he's the only one with access to his house?"

I was ignored _. I'm sensing a trend here._

"When I learned you were coming to our city I made an arrangement with the King of Qarth." The Thirteen began to laugh at Blueberry tip licker's confession. "He procured them for me."

"But there is no King of Qarth!"

Xaro stood up. "There is now, that was the other half of the arrangement." He stepped forwards as he began to declare, "You would keep your gates and minds closed to everything outside your walls but..." Pen Licker stood and moved to join Xaro's side. "Qarth cannot remain the greatest city that ever was if it refuses to change. I will open Qarth to the world as I have forced it to open itself to me."

Daenerys backed away, pulling me up as she did so we had our backs to the wall.

"Your ambition is an inspiration but..." The Spice King drawled, watching the two men stood together. "Like all upstarts you overreach. Three dragons the size of cats and an alliance with a charlatan do not make you a king."

"An upstart and a charlatan..." Xaro echoed. "Empires have been built by less. Those at the margins often come to control the centre and those in the centre make room for them - willingly or otherwise."

Xaro stepped back and let Coral Number 5 step forward. "The Mother of Dragons will be with her babies." He turned to face the woman. "She will give them her love and they will thrive by her side." He stared at Daenerys with a creepy grin before turning back to announce, "FOREVER!"

From the shadows, assassins stepped behind each seated person and slit their throat. Each assassin had the same lips as the man who ordered it.

"OH SHIT WADDUP!" I crowed watching the Pumpkin smash onto the table. "I SHOULD HAVE PLACED MONEY ON THIS!"

I was given no time to gloat and Daenerys grabbed my wrist and began to ran.

Before we could get far, he appeared. Each time, he was stabbed as he warned and ordered Daenerys to go to the House of the Undying.

As we left the rooms, I grabbed onto Daenerys hand and pulled her to a stop before stating, "Alright, just so we're clear, that was incredibly fucked up and I had nothing to do with it!" With that I left, heading down a nearby corridor before slumping against a wall.

"Before you leave-"

"AHHH!" I screamed in pen-sucker's face, pushing him back and running away, only to trip on a pebble and fall down the stairs...

* * *

I hadn't woken up at the bottom of the stairs with the only functions being a gaping mouth from a broken jaw... making me a sex doll as useless as anyone that thought orange looked like a natural tan.

_There's trouble brewing in the air, I can practically smell it although that might be the cocktail of rot and shit... That unfortunately I'm getting used to them._

As I stared aimlessly at the camp shrouded in darkness around me as I walked, I barely felt when someone grabbed my shoulder. When I jerked around to face them, I was only faced with disapproval.

"You know he is to marry, don't you?" Catelyn asked me.

"You mean Robb? Well, I do now. It's not really my problem-"

"Isn't it? I see how my son stares at you-"

"With his eyes?"

Catelyn tutted before closing her eyes and breathing deeply. "If you do venture down this path, you can only be his mistress. He is promised to one of Walder Frey's daughters and Robb knows his duty. I ask you only this: what would-"

"Jesus do?"

"-you think will happen? He will not marry you and if you bear him any children they will be bastards and his wife will not love them."

"I guess you know from experience or is that hatred because you didn't try? A poor baby with no mother he will ever know and you decided it was his fault for coming into the world," I snipe, not in the mood today.

When Catelyn didn't answer me I stood up, bid her a good day (without a fedora I couldn't bring myself to say m'lady) and went off in search of Robb.

* * *

Robb had filled me in on his life so far including the unknown singing woman who I didn't correct him on when I found him sat signing paperwork at his desk in his tent. "Y/N..."

"I don't think any different about you Robb. You are the leader but you heed counsel. Congratulations."

Robb sighed, his quill dropping from his hand and his face falling into his hands as he groaned. Paperwork can't be that bad?

"Fuck me..." I muttered, leaning over his shoulder as I gazed at the paper sprawled across his desk.

Robb stilled before stating, "I don't want to besmirch your honour..."

"I have honour?"

"Aye, more than most men. I heard about what you tried to do at Winterfell for my brother, for Rodrik Cassel." he pulled his face out of his hands, taking one of my hands in his as he remained seated yet looked at me over his shoulder. "Y/N, I have something to confess."

"Okay..."  _Excuse me whilst I have a panic attack._

Robb stood, tucking his chair in before standing before me. "I haven't seen you in days. Weeks. Months-"

"I hink you're over-exaggerating just a little bit."

Robb clasps my cheeks between his hands, gazing deep into my eyes as he confesses, "Y/N, I've been losing my mind without you. I've been seeing you in places I know you're not... You've bewitched me, cast a spell upon me that I may never escape from. You're a part of me-" one of his ungloved hands takes one of mine that was dangling uselessly at my side to slide under his shirt and clutch at his heart (he doesn't even have a tit to squeeze) as my hand stays warm in his chest hair - "My heart is yours. I know we can not marry but please let me have this moment. Let me have this fantasy to have for the rest of my days, to remind me of what I will lose if I lose this war and what I will lose when I wed. Let me have you, just for one night."

I stare at him for what could have only been seconds as he we gazed at each other, him so close I could feel his breath on my skin.

"Okay," I agree, my voice barely a whisper. "But to be clear, I'm not suck-"

Then his mouth is on mine and I can't say no...

I could but I don't want to...


	31. No CaPeS! (Chapter 30)

After throwing my shawl to one side, Robb pulled me up and placed me on his desk, gently laying me down on my back without parting from me.

He withdrew to pull his shirt off but he soon returned, placing his lips against mine once more as he pressed himself up against me whilst his hands returned to gently cup my face as he pursued his end with the passion of a man dying of thirst finally drinking his fill.

The hand on my left cheek slid down to my shoulder, sliding the simple strap down until I could feel all of my chest exposed.

I could feel him smirk against me as he finally released and began to slide his hands down my sides, tracing each curve and inch of skin on his way, his mouth laying open-mouth kisses onto my bare skin as he traced the pulse on my neck with his tongue.

_This may be one of the hottest events of my life but my mind is elsewhere._

_Jon; his smiles aren't Disney worthy but they're comforting and genuine._

_Sandor; protected me when no one else would or could because they're dicks._

_Viserys; sure he's absolutely psycho but he's pretty?_

_Baelish; the cunt is kind of tight. EH~_

_Surprisingly even Joffrey comes to mind..._

"Stop." I feel him still against me, his breath now warming my thigh before he withdraws. Sitting up, I pull my skirt back down and explain, "Sorry but I'm just not feeling this."

"Why?"

Sighing, I roll my eyes, putting my tit away. "Because you have to marry someone else and besides there's no condoms. I'm not becoming pregnant after a shit shag for your wank bank or getting AIDS if you had decided to shag someone. You people don't even have toilet paper, let alone condoms made of pig skin. Besides, no matter what I say, you'll ignore me, won't you?"

"Y/N-"

I hop off the desk, ignoring the hand that reaches out to me and step closer to him.

This time I place my hands onto his cheeks, pulling him into a long kiss that I hope explains everything; the pain, my loneliness, my bitterness, my jealousy, my lack of hope. Everything.

"I'm sorry," I whisper against his lips and then I leave him.

As I leave the tent, shawl left behind, I pass Talisa who enters the tent after me.

Water cools my burning skin the further from the camp I get, hearing the sounds of Robb and Talisa echo in the background.

The water isn't comforting and for once I wish the Gods would do something like making it rain but not like on a hooker.

_Free will is a funny thing, isn't it?_

_It's the thing that we use to explain why we veer off the course of righteousness along with being flawed. Why we defy logic for what we think honour needs us to do. Why we don't listen to anyone if it defies our view._

_Because regardless of what I do, Robb Stark will do what is right over what is needed. He will follow his heart rather than logic._

_Maybe that's why my heart hurts so much._

* * *

When I had arrived in Qarth, it was in the earlier hours of the day. The hours when someone who had been partying until the club closed was now passed out in a bucket of KFC.

I, however, had been dressed up in an almost puffy blue gown with gold embellishing, shoes and jewels in the same colour scheme, and was now sat at the breakfast table with Daenerys, Jorah and Xaro.

"Khaleesi, before you go to the House of the Undying, I must warn you that men are at the gates of Qarth, seeking Y/N L/N," Xaro informed Daenerys.

Before she could reply, I stated, "I'll go see who it is. If they're harmless, I'll let them in. If not, we can take care of them."

"Y/N, please take Jhogo," Daenerys begged. "I've lost my dragons, I can't lose you as well."

I couldn't bring myself to smile so instead I nodded, standing from the table.

One of the _ko_ , a bloodrider of Daenerys stepped forwards. I barely recognised him with the new paint that barely differed from the old except he looked happier than he had when he was at the market with his whip.

Turning away silently, I left the room and began to venture through the streets of Qarth, my lip twitching at the jokes Jhogo made as the weight on my heart decreased slightly.

* * *

Jhogo and I had complete banter as we wandered the streets before stopping at the towering gates.

I knew who it was before seeing them. Not gut instinct but I could hear Viserys complaining on the other side, threatening anyone who would listen despite his lack of ability to do so.

The gates were opened enough for me to slip through with Jhogo at my side before being closed behind me.

"I demand you... Y/N!" Viserys' rant trailed off when he spotted me, a calm expression glazing his face as he stepped away from the two horses and from Ser Barristan.

Before he could get any closer, Jhogo whipped at his feet, making him jump back out of reach.

"Viserys, Ser Barristan, welcome to Qarth!"

"My lady, it is good to see you," Ser Barristan greeted, pulling the horses forward.

"You look good. Nice beard," I complimented. "Viserys... Nice hair...?"

"OPEN THE GATES!" Jhogo shouted up.

Viserys offered me his arm. "Shall we?"

"Sure." I took his arm and we walked through the opening gate, beginning to fill them in on everything Daenerys related and ignoring Viserys' squawks about the dragons.

_After getting Viserys 'settled' in Xaro's place with Ser Barristan, I pretended to go to the bathroom and then decided I needed wine to deal with all of this._

* * *

So obviously I came to King's Landing to find either Cersei or Tyrion.

Mentally I flipped a coin, decided I didn't need to deal with the effects of menopause and hurried over to the Tower of the Hand.

* * *

"What up, fuckers!" I greeted once I found Tyrion and Bronn

"Good day Y/N," Tyrion greeted. Raising his gaze, he stared at Bronn who was picking at his nails with a golden compass. "Do you have to do that here?"

"I like to keep my hands clean," Bronn retorted.

"Yes," Tyrion acknowledged causing me to roll my eyes as I moved a stack of books over so I could perch on the table. "But do you have to do it here?"

Bronn finally met Tyrion's gaze and with a slight shake of his head, he placed the compass down on the table next to me.

_Now where is that wine..._

"You should start wearing the gold cloak," Tyrion spoke up. "Bronn," Tyrion clarified at my confused look.

"I don't want to wear a gold cloak-" Bronn replied.

"No CaPeS!" I channelled Edna Mode but was ignored for my valiant efforts.

"You're Commander of the City Watch. You shouldn't be dressed like a common sell-sword-"

"A cloak slows you down in a fight. Makes it hard to move quietly and the gold catches the light so you're nice and easy to spot at night," Bronn reasoned.

"Well you're not sneaking through alleyways any longer."

"We had a deal," Bronn stated. "And wearing a gold cloak wasn't part of it."

Having enough of this, I spoke over the both of them, "Girls, girls, you're both pretty. Now, I came here for a drink."

"This early?" Tyrion asked, sharing a look with Bronn.

"What like you've never done it?"

Bronn looked at me as if inspecting my face before asking, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine," I rebuffed him, waiting for the wine that wouldn't come. Knowing it wouldn't come I settle down, using the stack of books to lean upon and joined Bronn in watching Tyrion read his book.

"What?" Exasperated, he finally looked up at us.

"What?"

"What?"

"Why are you two staring at me?" Tyrion inquired.

"You don't want me cleaning me nails, you don't want me looking at your way. Why am I here?" Bronn asked.

"To help me  _plan_  the defense of King's Landing!" Tyrion answered, gesturing at the open book before him and the other books I was leant upon. Bronn stood up and stretched so I stole his seat. "Stannis will be here any day!"

As Bronn walked around the table, he picked up a smaller book. "And one of these explains how to beat him?"

Tyrion closed the book, marking the page with his right hand so he wouldn't lose it. Gesturing at the cover he stated, "A history of the great sieges of Westeros by Archmaster Cheffelethen. Chevoletesh-"

"Ch'Vyalthan," Bronn stated, peering at the book over Tyrion's shoulder. "I'd swap all your books for a few good archers."

From the shadows appeared the bald gossip guy. "My Lord Hand, my lady Slytherin, Commander. I must compliment you on the gold cloaks performance these last few weeks." Varys sat down in the chair to Tyrion's right as Bronn rounded the table once more to stand by the window. "Did you know there has been a marked drop in thievery? "

Tyrion slowly turned his gaze to Bronn who was attempting to look as innocent as he could, drawing out the words as he replied, "I... did not."

"How did you achieve this?" I asked, smirking at the idea.

"Me and the lads rounded up all the known thieves-"

"For questioning?" Tyrion asked.

"Uh, no." At Tyrion's irritated look he replied, "It's just the unknown thieves we've got to worry about now."

"We talked about this," Tyrion stated, seething like his boyfriend had forgotten to do the laundry rather than a man going around killing people.

Bronn scoffed. "Aye, we talked about it. Have you ever been in a city under siege? Maybe this part's not in your books. See, it's not the fighting that kills most people; it's the starving. Food's worth more than gold. Noble ladies sell their diamonds for a sack of potatoes. Things get bad enough, the poor start eating each other. The thieves, they love a siege. Soon as the gates are sealed, they steal all the food. By the time it's all over, they're the richest men in town." He punctuated his sentence by sitting in the chair next to me.

"Given the circumstances, my lord," Varys began, "I believe extreme measures are warranted." He leant over the book which Tyrion had now re-opened. "Ah! The great sieges of Westeros. Thrilling subject-"

"If you're into that sort of thing," I commented.

"- Shame, Archmaester Schavealthon wasn't a better writer."

Tyrion smirked, gesturing at Bronn who rolled his eyes in turn. Grabbing a rolled up long scroll from his desk, he began to unfurl it and stretch it across the desk, he stated, "Stannis knows King's Landing. He knows where the walls are strongest and he knows which gates are weakest." He inspected the map as we all did.

"Mud gate," I read upside down, drawing Tyrion's attention to the spot.

"A good ram will batter it down in minutes and it's only 50 yards from the wall so that's where he'll land," Tyrion summarised.

"If Stannis does attack the mud gate, what is our plan?" Varys asked.

"We could throw books-" Bronn snarked.

"We don't have that many books," Varys retorted as if it was a serious suggestion.

"We don't have that many men," Bronn retorted.

Varys tutted.

"What do we have?" I asked, deciding I should be the voice of reason between greasy hair and no hair.

"Pig Shit."

* * *

After a long time of planning using the Pig Shit wildfire, I stood up. "I better go."

"Go? Go where?" Tyrion asked.

"I wanted a drink and I'm clearly not going to get one so I might as well ask your father for one or Brienne."

" _My_ father?"

"Yeah, Tywin and I are buddies now. Later losers!" I called back, walking out and instead of thinking how cool I am, I wondered how Brienne was doing.

_Poor Gwendoline Christie..._

* * *

"Brienne!"

"Y/N?"

"Y/N?!"

"JAIME?!"

* * *

After finding Brienne, I wished I hadn't because I had listened to Jaime complain and snark for so long.

_Poor me._

_Wish I had just gone to Tywin for a drink._

"...It's a long way to King's Landing. Might as well get to know one another. Have you known many men? I suppose not. Women? Horses? Aha!" Jaime winced in pain, cut off, once Brienne forced him to kneel down near a boat.

Yanking me down with them, her gaze shifted to people passing 

"I didn't mean to give offence, My Lady. Forgive me," Jaime apologised.

"Your crimes are past forgiveness, Kingslayer."

"Stop flirting. We'll get caught before you two can shag," I hissed.

"Why do you hate me so much? Have I ever harmed you?" Jaime asked, ignoring me.

"You've harmed others - those you were sworn to protect, the weak, the innocent."

Jaime gazed at her thoughtfully before stupidly asking, "Has anyone ever told you you're as boring as you are ugly?"

"How _dare_ you?!" I exclaimed, disgusted. "She is a goddess!"

Thankfully the passing people had passed and Jaime was pulled to his feet.

"You will not provoke me to anger," Brienne stated, dragging Jaime by his collar to the river bank.

"I already have. Look at you. You're ready to chop my head off. Do you think you could? Do you think you can beat me in a fair fight?"

"Yes," I answered for her.

Brienne admitted as she began to drag the boat to the river, "I've never seen you fight."

"The answer is no. There are three men in the kingdoms who might have a chance against me. You're not one of them."

"Brienne isn't a man so your statement is invalid," I defended.

With a push, Brienne pushed the boat into the water and offered me a hand to get in as she continued to argue with Jaime. "All my life men like you have sneered at me. And all my life I've been knocking men like you into the dust."

 **"** If you're so confident, unlock my chains. Let's see what happens," Jaime retorted.

 **"** Do you take me for an idiot? In." Brienne gestured for Jaime to enter the boat which he complied, settling before me.

"I took you for a fighter, a man - oh, pardon - woman of honor. Was I wrong? You're afraid."

Brienne entered the boat, moving it away from the bank. As she started rowing I closed my eyes and imagined all the drink I would have access to at mine, barely hearing Brienne's words;

"Maybe one day we'll find out, Kingslayer."

* * *

I returned to my quarters, sat in a bath with a glass of wine and my new bubble bath product tickling my nose as I was slumped in it.

_This is the life._

"Your letters, my lady," Alis states as Sera silently passes me 

_What happened to her is a question for a different time..._

I take the first scroll, cut through the red wax seal of someone I don't recognise and begin to read the brief letter;

_Dear beloved,_

_I accept your most gracious offer and shall ride with great haste._

_You have sent me a knight of the Kingsguard. Taking from the false King is a great tribute and proof of our connection._

_With a fiery passion; yours,_

_V_

I take the next scroll, the green wax seal stamped with the Tyrell sigil and begin to read;

_Lady Y/N L/N of House Slytherin,_

_Now that you are a member of the Reach, I expect you to act like it and not like some common trollop._

_Choosing silver and green... A choice. Bold it may be but is it clever? That remains to be seen. However, if you choose to be the snake in the grass... I am not the Queen of Thorns for no reason._

_Your liege,_

_Lady Olenna of House Tyrell_

_Wardens of the Reach_

A second note falls from the letter so I begin to read that one, hoping for a happier message;

_Dear Lady Y/N of House Slytherin,_

_Next time we meet, if it's not too presumptuous to ask, shall we read together?_

_Unfortunately I can not send you an entire bouquet but I have had this flower sent to you, in the hopes it conveys what I can not yet say._

_I await you,_

_Willas_

"The flower died my lady," Lorenah stated, appearing at my side out of nowhere. "However, after identifying the flower I can confirm it as a harmless Calla Lily, such as the ones we use in our healing bubble bath. Now if that is all-"

"Lorenah?" I asked, pondering something.

"Yes, my lady?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any medical knowledge, would you?"

"...No, my lady. Only a maester would have enough knowledge. Speaking of medicine, today's lesson shall be on flowers and their meanings..."

* * *

_That was pointless._

My bath hadn't stopped the lesson, neither did being laced into a long sleeved green gown

_All I learnt was rose have different meanings and that as a lady of the Reach, I would have to convey my true meanings in silence._

Then again, not talking might be the thing I need to do if I'm going to change anything in this world. Knowledge isn't a virtue of my house but cunning is.

So now I'm sat in the Lion's den, listening to their plans in the meeting room of Harrenhal;

"King's Landing will fall an hour after Stannis lands his force," Kevan stated. "It's not too late for King Joffrey and Cersei and the court to ride West to safety."

"Surrender the Iron Throne?" Tywin asked.

"Better than seeing their heads mounted on the city gates," Kevan argued. "Stannis will execute them all."

"No. A king who runs will not be king for long," Tywin stated. "He's a Lannister, he'll stand and fight."

"I agree, my lord," I speak up. "If and your daughter remains in King's Landing she can be a beacon of hope for the ladies of the court and provide them shelter which in turn their families will provide their allegiance."

Tywin nodded at me, his lips twitching once more before he began to state, "Stannis two days from the capital and the Wolf at my doorstep-"

"Scouts assure us that Robb Stark remains North of Ashemark."

Tywin scoffed as he stood, prowling past the table to lean against the mantle-piece. "Last time the scouts assured us of Stark's movements, he lured us into a trap... which is my son is his prisoner... Too close to Casterly Rock."

"He sent a splinter force to recapture Winterfell," Kevan announced. "The Greyjoys have done us a great favour. Stark won't risk marching on Casterly Rock until he's at full force."

"He's a boy and he's never lost a battle! He'll risk anything at any time because he doesn't know enough to be afraid." Tywin stormed over to the table, swooping over and clutching the back of my chair and the back of the man next to me as he announced, "We'll ride at nightfall. I want a full night's march before he knows we're on the move. Clegane, you'll maintain a garrison here at Harrenhal. Track down this brotherhood and destroy them," he ordered the less giant Mountain before he returned to his seat. As he took it, he declared, "The girl's proven herself a good servant. She'll stay on with you." Turning to Arya he ordered, "See that he doesn't get drunk in the evenings. He's poor company when he's sober but he's better at his work."

* * *

After Tywin had dismissed everyone, I stayed behind in an empty room without Arya as back-up.

"May I ask a favour of you before you go?"

"If it's reasonable," he stated.

So I asked him the favour and in silence he wrote something for me on a scroll, tied it with a ribbon and stamped it with a wax seal. As he passed it to me he stated, "You may ride with me until you decide to leave."

* * *

After leaving Tywin, I decided to return to King's Landing and begin my plan.

"Maester Pycelle, are you busy?" I asked, opening his door.

"No, my lady. Now what can I help you with?"

I closed the door behind me. From my chest I pull the scroll Tywin had given me, passing it to Pycelle.

After he read it, he looked up at me. "Medicinal herbs, my lady? Are you sure?"

"Quite... Now, shall we begin?"


	32. Petyr Baelish Must Die (Chapter 31)

As the days went by I stayed longer and longer in King's Landing to attend more lessons with Pycelle about herbs and their uses, my lessons with Lorenah and helping plan for the war. Didn't really have much time for anything else.

Not even a wank.

Not even a danger wank.

But slowly, my hard work is going to pay off. After all, a girl's got to make money and friends in all the ways that she can to strangle it out of others.

To begin my plan, after finding out a few things about Tyrion's situation with 'Shae' being found out, I had spoke to his current rival; Chataya;

_"Chataya, I am so sorry to hear about your daughter but you do know who gave the Queen Mother that tip?" I asked one day as we had met for lunch to discuss business - selling my products to her whorehouse and for her to sell them on like an Avon rep._

_"Naturally," she lied._

_"Good. Wouldn't want to waste your time then, telling you things you already know. Well I suppose that's it then." I stood from my chair, paying for both of us. "After all, I do wish to get Lord Baelish has an audience with the Queen again after I do~"_

_I left her shortly after._

Then I visited Cersei, hadn't lied about that, and gave her a bottle of wine to 'try'.

Then I wrote to Viserys;

_Dear Viserys,_

_I must ask of you a favour but only when we are alone. I trust only you to keep my desires hidden and my desires may need a certain proof._

_Please do me this favour,_

_Y/N_

Finally, I chose to talk to Joffrey;

_"My King," I greeted warmly. Dressed in the jewelled choker he had bestowed upon me the day he gave me my signet ring, I wore that as well, and a low-cut gown in his colours, I was ready to flaunt it._

_"I see my gifts have finally reached you," he greeted me back just as warmly._

_Joffrey pulled a chair out for me so I sat delicately with a small smile and began, once he had taken his seat, "I apologise for my rudeness before, my king. I was simply hurt by your actions. I am fond of the girl yet..." I allowed myself to trail off, looking wistfully into the sunset as if my heart was on the line yet the only thing it helped me do was tamp down the smirk that threatened to arise when Joffrey gently laid a hand under my chin and turned my head to face him once more._

_"My lady, your apologies are unheeded. If I wish to_

_"Why punish Sansa when there are other options to hurt Robb Stark?" I took his hand in mine across the table gently, stroking the back of his hand with my thumb. "Joffrey, if I may, I wish to offer you whatever you need in this war."_

_He lifted our joined hands and kissed the back of mine where the fingers were now locked with his before gently placing them back on the table. "Now my lady, allow me to treat you to a meal before I give you another gift. It has been too long since we have talked as the friends we are."_

* * *

Later that evening, Stannis was on the shores of King's Landing. Instead of getting to go out and fight, I was stuck indoors with all the other women and so we waited to send off the troops.

Joffrey waddled up with Sandor at his side, Sansa stepping forwards to greet him.

"You should see me off with a kiss," the little shit ordered, withdrawing his blade with "My new blade; Heart-Eater, I've named it. Kiss it."

Reluctantly she bent down and kissed the steel.

With a satisfied smirk, Joffrey informed her as he put the sword away, "You'll kiss it again when I return and taste my uncle's blood."

"Will you slay him yourself?" Sansa asked.

"If Stannis is fool enough to come near me."

"So you'll be outside the gates fighting in the Vanguard."  _Clever girl._

"A  _king_  doesn't discuss battle plans with stupid girls," Joffrey retorted on the verge of a tantrum.

"I'm sorry your Grace. You're right - I'm stupid." "Of course you'll be in the vanguard. They say my brother Robb always goes where the fighting is thickest and he's only a pretender."

"Your brother's turn will come," Joffrey threatened. "And you can lick his blood off Heart-Eater too." Without looking at anyone else, Joffrey stormed off with Sandor at his back and the Kingsguard swiftly following.

Sansa watched the Kingsguard march past; troops off to a battle that seems so pointless it's probably going to be done in the blink of an eye.

Sansa spoke to her maid, the real Shae and not Chataya's daughter who had been locked up, before I hurried over to Sansa's side, linking my arm with hers as I whispered, "Have I ever told you that you're brilliant? No? Well I should have."

She shot me a soft smile and we headed to the room where we would all stay for the evening.

_Fun._

* * *

In a secluded room, Sansa was complaining about Cersei, "-I don't know why she wants me here." I knew but I figured if I gave the game away, I would reveal myself to be the threat that I actually am. "She's always saying how stupid I am. She  _hates_ me."

"Maybe she hates you as much as she hates everyone else," Shae attempted to comfort her.

I had to hold back a snort that would have interrupted Alis and Sera who were sat behind me and signing to each other. Lorenah sat near us, reading and occasionally taking notes. Probably lesson planning. At my other side between Sansa and I was Nym who had passed out five minutes in. In front of me, attempting to discuss how to shape a wooden dildo for sale was Emma who was also writing down things.

"I doubt it," Sansa whispered, bringing my attention away from the sex toys.

"Maybe she's jealous of you?"

"Why would she be jealous?"

Shae could only shrug.

"Sansa," Cersei called, beckoning her over.

Sansa complied.

"I was wondering where our little dove had flown. You look pale, child." Her gaze flicked about the room before she called, "Y/N."

I didn't comply as I was currently debating steel vs wood.

"Y/N!"

I apologised to Emma before I hiked my skirts and walked over to her.

"What _are_ you wearing?"

 _"_ Nightwear, the same as you," I replied. It was a half-truth. My outfit was a simple lace and silk leotard that covered the tits with thicker lace and hid any imperfections on the body with a garter belt around the waist that held up stockings. Over that I wore a long pair of heels (should really work on selling green-bottom shoes; memo to me) and over that I wore the Sugar Daddy Robe; Funeral Edition.  _My husband, dead? GASP!_  A pearl necklace, long dangly black and silver earrings, rings including my signet ring were all I needed to look better than everyone.

Not that it was hard.

Cersei's eyebrow twitched before she ordered her attendant, "Pour Lady Sansa and Lady Slytherin some wine."

I accepted whilst Sansa rejected; "I'm not thirsty, your Grace."

"So?" She passed me my goblet before passing Sansa one. "I didn't offer you water."

Finally Sansa accepted.

Looking to her left, Sansa asked, "What's he doing here?"

I didn't pay attention to the fucking massive guy with a sword in the corner until she pointed it out like pointing out that someone's period has stained someone's white trousers.

"Ser Illyn? He's here to defend us. When the axis smash down those doors, you may be glad to have him," Cersei informed her.

"But we have guards to defend us."

 _Fuck being involved in this._ I began to down my wine. Not chugging but drinking it enough that I didn't have to talk.

"Guards we have paid," Cersei replied. "Should the city fall, they'll be the first one out of the doors."

One of those guards entered the room before bowing before the queen. "The lads caught a groom and two maids trying to sneak away with a stolen horse and some gold cups."

Cersei snickered to herself. "The battle's first traitors. Have Ser Illyn see to them. Put their heads on spikes outside the stables as a warning."

He bowed and left to fulfil her orders.

"The only way to keep the small folk loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy," the partially drunk woman states, sloshing her drink. "Remember that if you ever hope to become a queen."

"You said he was here to protect us," Sansa softly mentioned.

Cersei downed her drink before replying, "He is. Traitors are a danger to us all. More wine," she ordered, holding out her glass. "More wine for Lady Slytherin as well."

After my glass was re-filled I decided to sit back down and finish my discussion.

* * *

"So we're agreed then. Wood with glazing should be the main product, steel the second and possibly silver for your house as the most expensive option," Emma summarised.

"Exactly," I agreed. "By the way - shoes. We should start selling shoes with green bottoms for Slytherin. I think I can get a royal warrant that only lets us have them."

"Ingenious my lady. Anything else?"

"Would you like to join the prayer circle?" Lorenah asked for the fifth time that evening.

I looked over at Sansa and some other women holding hands in silence.

"No thank you. Go ahead if you want to," I offered to which she thanked me and did.

For the second time that evening, Sansa was called over to Cersei. "Sansa! Come here little dove."

Sansa slid away from the circle and approached slowly. "My Queen."

_This is going to be fucking shit._

With a sad sigh, I drank the rest of my wine and turned back to Emma to continue business. "Listen, now that I've got you here I'd like to talk to you about some black market stuff."

"Yes, my lady?"

"You see one of the first times I met Baelish-" The Naelor twins stilled against my back. "-He gave me a certain... leaf. Know anything about it?"

"...Not in particular my lady. I'll research it for you," Emma replied.

"Thank you but please be discreet."

"YOUR GRACE!" Someone shouted, their armour clanking up the corridor to stand before the Queen.

_Rob's squire..._

"What news?" Cersei asked.

Lancel replied, "The Imp has set the river on fire. Hundreds of ships are burning, maybe more. Stannis's fleet destroyed but... but... but... His troops have landed outside the city walls."

"Where is Joffrey?" Cersei asked, almost as silent as the grave yet more serious than the stone that marked it.

"On the battlements with Lord Tyrion," Lancel answered.

"Bring him back inside at once," Cersei ordered.

"Your Grace-"

She turned on him. " _What?"_

He faltered before stating, "The King's presence is good for morale-"

"Bring him back to his chambers now," Cersei demanded.

"But here-"

"With the women and children? Do you  _want_  him to be mocked as a coward for the rest of his life?" She hissed.

"No! Wait-"

" _Now!"_

Finally he left and Cersei sat back down with Sansa who was now nursing a half glass of wine.

"When I told you about Ser Illyn earlier I lied."  _What a shock._ "Do you want to hear the truth? Do you want to know why he's really here? He's here for us. Stannis may take the city. He may take the throne but he will not take us alive."

_Yippee._

"Any chance I can get any wine?"

Thank fuck for Alis and Sera who had apparently brought their own.

* * *

No one had wanted to play I Spy or Cluedo or discuss any more business so I simply sat and let everyone's words wash over me.

* * *

Lancel finally returned to disgustedly inform the Queen who now had Tommen at her side, "The battle is lost, Your Grace. Stannis' troops are at the gates. When the gold cloaks saw the King leaving, they lost all heart."

"Where is my son?"

Not answering her, Lancel stated, "I want to escort him back to the battle."

"Why do _I_ care about what  _you_  want? Bring me-"

"Now listen to me!-"

Cersei stood and with a sharp thrust, Lancel was knocked to his back with a cry. As the women cried around her, she left with Tommen.

Taking the sword off of Lancel and his sheath with it, tying it to my own waist under the dressing gown in a few quick movements, I bid my servants to go to my chambers and protect each other before following after the Queen and her son.

* * *

As Tommen walked ahead of me, his hand tight in his mother's, he whimpered at the sounds of the battle raging outside the walls.

"We'll win," I stated in an attempt to comfort him.

"How do you _know_?" Tommen asked.

"I helped plan for the battle. Your uncle Tyrion is very clever, you know. Some people may ignore that fact unless it suits them."

"I like Uncle Tyrion. He gives me sweets and once he let Ser Pounce hide in his office for an entire day!" The small child babbled on innocently and I listened intently as we walked through the corridors with him, a hand on the sword at my side at all times.

* * *

Cersei had brought us to the throne room, ignoring Sandor who walked past us to Sansa's room and the two maids who were huddled in the shadows. She was focused only on her son.

"Calm my sweet," Cersei soothed her son who sat upon her lap on the seat of the Iron Throne whilst I sat at their feet on the steps below it to make sure I was ready for anything.

"They're still fighting," Tommen said, his gaze locked onto the large double doors of the throne room much like mine were.

"No one's going to hurt you. I am here... So is she," Cersei stated. "Let me tell you a story. You know the one about the Mother Lion and her little cub. They lived in the woods-"

"The Kingswood?"

"Yes, my love." Cersei shushed him once more. "And in the Kingswood, there lived a mother and her cub. She loved him very much. But there were other things that lived in the wood - evil things."

"Like what?" Tommen asked.

"Like Stags-" Cersei answered.

"Stags aren't evil. They only eat grass."

"-And Wolves. The Cub was frightened. His Mother said, 'You are a Lion my son, you mustn't be afraid. For one day all the beasts will bow to you. You'll be King. All the stages will bow, all the wolves will bow, the Bears in the North and the Foxes of the South. All the Birds in the sky, the Beasts in the Sea and the Snakes in the East and West. They will all come to you, little lion, to rest a crown upon your head.' The cub said, 'Will I be strong and fierce like my father and the Storm he was born from?'." In Cersei's hand she uncorked the vial she had brought with her and I finally realised what she had brought me here for. To protect their bodies; not them. "'Yes', said his mother. 'You will be strong and fierce just like the Storm he came from; just like your Father.' I will keep you safe."

"Cersei-" I began when she raised the vial to his lips, standing when I heard the footsteps.  _I was either too late to save that boy or too stupid to not think of a way to think of him earlier._ From the sheath I raised my sword and prepared myself.

"My love." She offered Tommen the vial but his lips did not open. "I promise you."

The door slammed open and men flooded in.

Two knights in particular stopped by the doors, the men parting around them. One in a golden armour with a cloak over him, the other in the armour Renly had once worn before he died.

The two removed their helms to reveal... Garlan and Loras Tyrell.

In the seconds that followed, a more imposing figure marched up.

"Tywin..." I whispered, letting my sword drop to my side.

"Father..." Cersei let the vial drop to the floor and shatter.

As he approached, he declared, "The battle is over... we have won!"

Cersei let out a gasp of relief, clutching her son to her and finally my sword dropped to the ground and I almost fell to my knees.


	33. End of Season 2 & I Swear They Just Need To Have A Wank Or Two (Chapter 32)

Days later, when Tyrion was still comatose, drooling all over his bandages, and I had gone for my daily visit, I decided to check up on the home of the Starks to see how the other Stark children were doing.

Winterfell was in basically the same shape as I had left it except for the bodies of the small boys over the gates that I could barely see within the crowd of Ironborn I appeared in.

Before I could panic, a horn sounded.

"You here that?" Theon crowed, drawing the Ironborns attention. "That is the mating call of the North men! They want to fuck us! Well I haven't had a good fuck in weeks - I'm ready for one. They say every Ironborn man is worth a dozen from the mainland. Do you think they're right?"

"Aye," the men called back.

 _Can I not just fast forward this shit?_ "We die today, brothers! We die bleeding from a hundred wounds with arrows in our necks and spears in our guts but our war cries will echo through eternity. They will sing about the Battle of Winterfell until the Iron Islands have slipped between the waves. Every man, woman and child will know who we were and how long we stood! Aggar and Gelmar, Wex and Urzen, Stygg and Black Lorren! Ironborn warriors will cry out our names as they leap onto the shores of Seagard and Faircastle!"

"Aye!" The horn blew.

"Mothers will name their sons for us!"

"Aye!" The horn blew once more.

"Girls will think of us with us with their lovers inside them!"

"Aye!" The horn blew again.

"And whoever kills that fucking horn blower will stand in bronze above the shores of Pyke!"

"AYE!"

"What is dead may never die!" Theon let out a war cry that cut off suddenly as he crumpled to the floor after being smacked in the head with a spear by one of the Ironborn.

"Thought he'd never shut up," another of them stated.

Spear-Guy shrugged. "It was a good speech. Didn't want to interrupt."

I clapped slowly.  _Gotta give 'em credit._

At the sound of my clapping, the attention was drawn to me finally until they recognised me and fell to their knees.

"My lady, what would you have us do with him?" Spear-Guy asked.

"I did say there would be a day where I would laugh at his misfortune... Whatever you decide to do, don't give him to the sea. He doesn't deserve the mercy of it."

* * *

Coming to see Robb to tell him about the boys, those horrible burnt bodies that made me vomit when I appeared, was a bad idea. After being told the 'good news' by a 'glowing' Talisa, I grabbed Robb by the collar and excused us before finding an empty tent to ask, "You're marrying her? Talisa? Why?"

"Don't be jealous-"

 _This fucking..._ "JEALOUS? HOW CAN I HAVE THE TIME TO BE FUCKING JEALOUS WHEN I'M BUSY PROTECTING YOUR SISTER IN KING'S LANDING, WHILST SHE WAITS FOR YOU TO RESCUE HER! I'M THE BITCH THAT'S RUNNING ABOUT PLANNING SHIT WHILST YOU'RE HERE GETTING HIS DICK WET!"

"DON'T SHOUT AT ME!"

"FUCK YOU, YOU LIMP WRISTED GIMP! YOU'RE THE GOON WHO CAN'T KEEP IT IN HIS PANTS LONG ENOUGH TO SAVE HIS PEOPLE!" I shouted at him.

"SHE'S WITH CHILD!" Robb burst out before recoiling, curling into himself. "I won't be my father. I won't. I can't bring shame..."

"So you're too good to just have a bastard or have it covered up? No. Robb Stark is the stupid fucker whose dick is going to make him lose the war and then you'll bring shame to your name, the North and your people!"

"Would you just..." Robb cut himself off.

"No. No. What do you want me to say or do here? Only a while ago, you confessed your 'undying love' and willingness for marriage. What was it you said? 'You bewitched me.'"

"Y/N-"

I turn away from him. "I can't support you in this Robb. You're making a huge mistake." I left him once more like I had that day he confessed and I decided to check on the only Stark who wasn't fucking about.

* * *

_That Stark was not yet here apparently..._

"Y/N L/N," Tormund greeted when I appeared before him suddenly.

"Tormund Tall-Talker," I greeted back. "I never did get to hear that tale about Sheila the Bear."

He smirked, dropping an arm onto my shoulder as he began to push my shivering body forwards. "Mance'll want to see you but first... It was the coldest night of all the nights..."

* * *

Ages later, I was wrapped in furs with Tormund on the other side of me, Mance in the shadows in the corner across from me and heavily fed and given drink a-plenty.

When the tent flap fluttered open, I was shoved along the seat out of sight, hidden in the shadows as Tormund picked his chicken up.

"I smell a Crow," Tormund managed to get out between bites.

"We killed his friends," someone replied. "Thought you'd want to question this one.

"What do we want with a baby Crow?" Tormund asked.

Ygritte stepped in to defend Jon. "This _baby_ killed Qhorin Halfhand."

Tormund looked almost shocked as he inquired, standing and walking over to square up with Jon, " _That_ half-handed cunt killed friends of mine. Friends twice your size-"

"My father taught me big men fall just as quick as little ones if you put a sword through their hearts," Jon replied, meeting Tormund's gaze.

Tormund scoffed. "Plenty of little men tried to put their swords through my heart. And there's plenty of little skeletons buried in the woods. What's your name, boy?"

"Jon Snow... Your Grace." He fell to one knee, his cloak wooshing behind him.

I snorted as the free folk roared with laughter.

When Tormund recovered slightly, enough to speak between gasps, he turned to me and began, "'Your Grace?' Do you hear that?" Turning back to the rest he declared, "From now on, you'd better kneel every time I fart."

From the shadows Mance came forward and ordered, "Stand, boy." Tormund took his place next to Mance as the King beyond the Wall stated, "We don't kneel for anyone beyond the wall." Mance had a good look at Jon before drawling, "So... You're Ned Stark's bastard... Y/N, this wouldn't be the Crow you've told me about, would it?"

"Y/N?" Jon's head twisted to spot me amongst the shadows and streams of light.

"'Sup," I greeted. "Yeah it's him... I'll see you later anyway. Come on Ygritte. Laters~"

Ygritte and I walked side by side out of the ten into the freezing weather outside before I yanked on her arm. "So," I asked Ygritte quietly. "How have you been? How's life?"

_As it turns out, Jon Snow was fucking about. With my home-girl Ygritte._

* * *

One strip-tease for Ygritte without much body movement beyound shaking the fat on my body in the freezing cold that threatened to take all the moisture out of my body and punish me with it in a non-sexual way, Ygritte took the furs back and I appeared in the comforting warmth of Qarth.

As soon as I had grabbed a simple nightgown, still fucking embellished with gold the posh twats, the door opened to reveal Ser Barristan with Viserys at his side, impeccably dressed in a gold tunic.

"Y/N, come with me," Viserys demanded in the dead of night once I had appeared at her side. "It is time."

"Time for what...?"

The door opened before us before I could get an answer and Viserys placed my hand on the crook of his bent elbow as we walked in alongside Daenerys who had gotten two of her dragons back... all three just one was curled around Viserys' neck.

In the room, barely illuminated by the pale moonlight were Xaro and Doreah in bed together, sat bolt upright and facing the Targaryen wrath.

"Khaleesi, please," Doreah whispered her plea. "He said you'd never leave Qarth alive and-"

"Come," Daenerys ordered and turned. Viserys and I followed with Jorah at our side.

* * *

Deep into the home of Xaro we ventured in silence, the pleas of Doreah silenced behind us. In the deepest part of the home where I could barely feel the air anymore, we stopped before a large copper-looking extravagant door.

Jhiqui stepped forwards, placing something I recognised as Xaro's pendant in the centre and twisted it. When the door clicked, she stepped back to allow two members of the Dothraki to heave the door open to reveal nothing.

When Daenerys stepped forwards with a large torch, she swept it around to reveal the cavernous inside was truly empty.

"Nothing," Daenerys muttered. Turning back to face the guilty parties, she said, "Thank you Xaro Xhoan Daxos. Thank you for teaching me this lesson."

"Ser Barristan," Viserys called and the knight began to force the two in only their nightclothes forwards, a grimace on his face.

"I am the King of Qarth. I can help you now," Xaro began to bargain with the Targaryens as he was forced inside. "Truly help you. We can take the Iron Throne. I'll bring you a thousand ships-"

"Please Khaleesi, I beg you," Doreah whimpered.

Their pleas were ignored as they were sealed inside, the darkness shrouding them. Once shut, the door was locked with the pendant which was passed to Daenerys.

As we made our way back up the corridor I asked, "So, Viserys, you always wanted to be King, right? I think a promotion is in order~"

"King of Qarth," Viserys tested out the title before smirking down at me. "I like it."

"Now before I go... Let's discuss that favour."

* * *

"Tyrion, you're alive!" I greeted when I slammed the door open to his now dingy quarters and saw him struggling to sit up. "Oh, shit, yeah..." Hurrying over to his side I helped lift him up, pushing pillows behind his back to support him before I checked his bandages like Pycelle had taught me to do.

"You're lucky you're going steady because that nose wound is _awful_."

"It's... just a scratch," Tyrion replied nervously.

I hesitated before stating, "It's a bit more than just a scratch."

"How bad is it?"

Before I picked up the hand mirror on the table to show him, I stated, "It's like a rottweiler got into a kindergarten and one of the toddlers had rubbed his face his steak and got his mate's girlfriend pregnant so he punched them as hard as the guy that fucked up Bowie's eye did."

"I understood virtually none of the words that left your mouth," Tyrion explained. "But I must see for myself."

Wordlessly I passed it to him. In the reflection of the glass he could clearly see his now mis-matched eyes and the chunk of his nose that was missing.

In an attempt to cheer him up I said, "You're still better looking than your brother and sister..."

He didn't reply and that's how we must have sat for ages before Podrick entered the room. "My lady, that reminds me that you must be off. The King has called all nobles in the capital to court today."

Brushing myself off after standing up, I said goodbye to Tyrion and left him with Podrick to head to court for non-legal purposes I hope.

* * *

"I, Joffrey of the House Baratheon, First of My Name, the rightful king of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby proclaim my grandfather Tywin Lannnister the savior of the city and the Hand of the King."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Tywin dismissed himself and turned his horse around without looking at anyone until he stopped his horse before me, bowing his head in my direction. In return I curtsied. Satisfied he smirked and made his horse move once more until he was out of my sight.

"Lord Petyr Baelish, step forward." Littleflicker moved out of the crowd and I was loving the displeased expression on Humpty's head. "For your good service and ingenuity in uniting the Houses of Lannister and Tyrell, I declare you shall be granted the castle of Harrenhal with all its attendant lands and incomes to be held by your sons and grandsons from this day until the end of time."

"You honour me beyond words, Your Grace. I shall have to acquire some sons and grandsons."

Laughter carried him back into the crowd.

"Ser Loras Tyrell," Joffrey called, prompting the knight to step forwards. "Your House has come to our aid. The whole realm is in your debt, none more so than I. If your family would ask anything of me, ask it and it shall be yours. "

Loras fell to one knee as he announced, "Your Grace, my sister Margaery, her husband was taken from us before... She remains innocent. I would ask you to find it in your heart to do us the great honour of joining our Houses."

From the crowd, Margaery stepped forwards to stand at her brothers side.

"Is this what you want, Lady Margaery?" Joffrey asked.

"With all my heart, Your Grace," she replied sweetly. "I have come to love you from afar. Tales of your courage and wisdom have never been far from my ears, and those tales have taken root  _deep_  inside of me."

Joffrey 'pondered' this notion as he stared at her tits before he stated, "I, too, have heard tales of your beauty and grace but... The tales do not do you justice, my lady." _Put your tongue back in your mouth._ As Margaery coyly looked at the ground, Joffrey said, "It would be an honour to return your love but I am promised to another. A King must keep his word!"

"Your grace," Cersei began. "In the judgment of your small council, it would be neither proper nor wise for you to wed the daughter of a man beheaded for treason, a girl whose brother is in open rebellion against the throne as we speak. For the good of the realm, your councilors _beg_ you to set Sansa Stark aside."

Whispers filled the hall as Sansa stared on from her place on the balcony.

When Joffrey stood, the whispers slowly died as if the flame was being capped. "I would like to heed your wishes and the wishes of my people but I took a holy vow."

"Y-Your grace." Pycelle stepped forwards. "The Gods do indeed hold betrothal solemn, but your father, blessed be his memory, made this pact before the Starks revealed their falseness and without the Stormbringer to bear true witness. I have consulted with the High Septon and he assures me that their crimes against the realm free you from any promise you have made to them in the sight of the Gods."

Joffrey smirked as falsely as this entire thing. "The Gods are good. I am freed to heed my heart. Ser Loras, I will gladly wed your sweet sister." To Margaery he said, "You will be my Queen and I will love you from this day until my last day."

When the applause began to ring in my ears I hurried after a grinning Sansa to find her chatting awkwardly with Baelish.

I arrived behind Baelish in enough time to hear him say, "We’re all liars here. And every one of us is better than you."

So I did what any rational human being would do to a possible paedo;

"Fuck off, Baelish," I hissed at him. Once he had left, fabulously turning on his heel, I turned to Sansa and stated, "Sansa, you _are_  one of the last good people left in Westeros so you don't have to be a good liar. He has to be a liar because underneath all of that is a frightened little man with weird tastes. Besides, maybe you'll get a chance with a handsome guy from the Reach," I suggest before becoming serious, "A word of advice, Littlefinger wants what he can't have and only takes when it's easy to do so."

Sansa nodded and left in the opposite direction of Petyr so I decided it was high time to see what my money situation.

* * *

"...In conclusion, my lady, our profit each month seems to increase by at least 500 gold dragons with each variation of product and 1000 gold dragons with each new product."

"So business is booming?" When Emma nodded, I rubbed my hands together like an old-school villain.

"Now, Tony Stark would hate me for this but what weaponry are we dealing?"

"None, my lady, artillery is not the Reach's main concern... Is Tony of House Stark?"

"Nah, he's better. He's not going to die for honour," I replied before changing the topic. "So which of the families or ares of the land are the richest?"

Lorenah stepped in and took over. From the bookshelf, neatly filled with books on the subjects I was interested in learning about and those Lorenah insisted in, she withdrew a large novel, bound in emerald and had a large tree on the front, that when dropped onto the desk caused it to creak. "This is the history of the Reach which is the most profitable however the Westerlands are overall the most wealthy."

"Fab-"

Another tome was dropped bound in red leather with a gold emblem on the front that was bigger than the last. It was so soft to the touch yet under my hands it remained strong.

With my hand still on the cover I quietly asked, "Before I begin to read these, may I ask something personal?"

"Of... course, my lady," Emma consented

"Are you all happy here?" I asked and turned to look at her shocked pale face, lined with age and hair striped with stress in the red tornado atop her head. "Do you not have families that miss you or friends or someone you sleep with?"

Emma hesitated before she "...A son."

"Pardon?"

"My son Oak wished to go to the citadel to the train. He was all I had and when he left... My husband didn't question me leaving. Was too drunk to anyway." She snorted and sat down. "They live a poor life there and if women weren't forbidden, I would go visit him. After all, he's almost ready to become a noble maester..."

"Well... I need a maester and you know one. You could always offer him a job to work for me," I suggested.

"Truly?"

"Sure, I mean... I have no idea what a household needs but if he's as dedicated as you say, I'll write him a letter just pass me the parchment please."

Emma did, her face soft and warm. It was the happiest I had seen someone who wasn't a child or doing something villainous whilst twirling their moustache.

So I began to write the letter for her offering Oak Flowers a job.

_Back in my day people actually had to apply._


	34. AND MAKE OUT WITH YOUR DAD! (Chapter 33)

Dressed in just a simple cloak, boats and men's clothes, I appeared suddenly before an older man missing his pussy, trigger, flipping and pointing the blame finger.

In silence, we walked to the massive castle that he was headed to.

* * *

"Your Grace." The older man bowed as he warily watched the Lady in Red in the corner. Davos turned out to be his name as the guy at the door, the bouncer, addressed him and asked if he was here to see King Stannis.

"I heard you were dead," the man stated. King Stannis was very disappointing to look at.

"I had hoped to speak to you alone, Your Grace."

"If you had, why bring someone with you?"

"She is not just someone," the Lady in Red declared, stepping forth. "She is the Stormbringer; chosen by the Lord of Light to burn the enemies of the one true king-"

"Bit of a stretch, that. Considering when you lost Blackwater, I was in King's Landing."

"Appearing before us now, my lady, is clearly a sign," Stannis stated.

"Your Grace," the older man began. "You are the rightful king, not only by blood but by the Lady- Stormbringer. You're an honourable man, a just man and there is still a war to fight."

_STOP LOOKING AT ME!_

Red still continued to stare at me despite Davos and Stannis' conversation.

"I am fighting," Stannis stated firmly.

"By burning prisoners alive?!"

"Wait, what?"

"How would you punish the infidels, Ser Davos?" The Lady in Red asked.

"I do not judge people for the gods they worship. If I did, I'd have thrown you in the sea before you ever set foot on Dragonstone," Davos declared.

"I am not your enemy-"

"You are my enemy."

_This is the love triangle Westeros deserves but from a distance._

"Was it me you fought on Blackwater Bay? Did I set your ships ablaze? I wasn't there when the wildfire killed our men by the thousands. I could have saved those men. You would have taken the city, Stannis would now sit upon his rightful throne, and you would stand beside him. But I wasn't there because you convinced your king to leave me behind. Do you hear them screaming? All those burning men in the water crying for their mothers, for their gods for help? Until the moment the Blackwater swallowed them. Don't despair, Ser Davos. What I told your son is true. Death by fire is the purest death."

Red Bitch seems to be trying her luck because Davos pulled a knife and attempted to stab her but was restrained by the guards.

Davos shouted, attempting to release himself, "This woman is evil! She's the mother of demons!"

"Take him to the dungeon and lock him in a cell," Stannis ordered.

"Your Grace!"

"You've chosen the darkness Ser Davos. I will pray for you."

Then the room was silent and their gazes locked onto me. Hers filled with fire and his filled with something else.

_This is too weird._

"I'm going to go..." Then I was out of there like a shot, away from the gay couple's drama and the witch's glare to go find someone who I knew wouldn't give me flashbacks as she didn't wear red.

* * *

Meeting up with Daenerys was more relaxed than meeting Stannis. We just walked around the market-dock side by side as she told me about her wanting to buy slaves.

From an alleyway, a man emerges and approaches Daenerys and silently offers her a sphere of copper.

"Quick question, do you usually accept shit off of randos? Ever heard of stranger danger? I mean it usually refers to a man in a white van but no vans are still a dang-" I cut myself seeing Daenerys take the ball into her hand, barely hearing the words the man said before turning on his heel. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

So I took it and threw it on the ground.

Only to be grabbed by Jorah and one of the Dothraki gently as Daenerys falls flat on the floor to just stare at the slowly uncurling scorpion.

Pushing out of the light hold I hurriedly surveyed the area. From a nearby stall I swipe a spear and stab the thing with it before it can strike Daenerys in the face.

_Holy shit... I could have killed her with a simple slip up._

"I-I owe you my life," Daenerys states as she stands up.

"Not just yet you don't." Turning to Aggo, I order in Dothraki, " _The man in cloak... Killer... Go."_

I need to start doing lessons instead of flower language shit.

"What did he whisper as he passed the Manticore to you?" Jorah asks after Aggo chases after the man, his dragonbone bow raised and aim.

"'I'm so sorry'," Daenerys answers.

Thoughtfully, Jorah takes a few seconds to think over it before asking, "But who would send the Sorrowful Men after you?"

 _There's a list..._  Helpfully I suggest, "How about you contact your brother about this? See if they're still up and hopping or they've taken his dragon." That's right, Viserys has a dragon. Not just any dragon but the one named after him because he's a fucking egomaniac. "Also, quick thing, that wasn't a Manticore. That was at best a very unimpressive scorpion."

"Then enlighten me as to what a Manticore actually is," Daenerys requested, taking my arm in hers as we begin to march back through 

 _My time has come for more copyright issues._  As if I was a scholar, I pause for thought with a hand stroking my chin as if scouting for beard hair,

"Well... Way back in olden ancient Greece, lived a most ferocious beast. With eyes of flame and teeth of steel, on human flesh it feast...ed upon. Standing over 10 feet tall, no man escaped it's roar. Behold, my friends and foes alike; the dreadful Manticore!"

"Manticore?"Aggo replies, coming up behind us with the body of the man across his shoulders like a deer. " _Manticore?_ "

"The Manticore feels happiness whenever you feel sad and because you got kicked in the junk, the Manticore is glad. The Manticore invented death and all things that are bad. He'll kill your sister just for fun and make out with your dad!"

Had to point at Jorah so I could watch him squirm uncomfortably. Shouldn't have done so as he suggests, "I think that is enough for today Khaleesi. Shall we head back to camp to discuss our situation?"

"What's the situation, killjoy?" I ask. "Really? You have two  _dragons!_  DRAGONS! You can just burn the fucker alive!"

I'm being ignored so after slowing down behind them, I decide it's time to go be political instead of fantastic.

* * *

Before I went off to be political, I had met with Sansa who had brought Shae her handmaiden with her to the docks to stare out at the water and play a game.

Currently, my guesses for where ships were going were too elaborate so Sansa squinted in the sunlight before stating, "Dorne. It's going to Dorne."

"Why Dorne?" Shae asked, sat beside us on the crate.

"It's carrying silk and it's supposed to bring back wine in exchange. But it's not coming back," Sansa began to weave her story. "The captain;s tired of risking his life so King's Landing lords and ladies can get drunk on better wine than they deserve. He's going to stay in Dorne - wait out the winter where's it beautiful and warm."

"I met some people in Dorne who weren't so beautiful and warm," Shae commented.

"Don't ruin the game!" Sansa berated.

"I told you, I don't want to play."

"What about that one there?" Sansa asked, pointing at a ship.

"That one?" Shae replied before answering, "It's going to Volantis."

"Why?"

"Because when I got on a ship in Volantis, it looked like that one."

"That's not how the game works," Sansa complained. "You're not just supposed to blurt out the right answer. You're got to invent a story about where the ship is going and why."

"Why should I make up a story when I know the truth?" Shae asked.

“The truth is always either terrible or boring.”

"Lovely day for it," the mixed-accent commented from behind us, making me almost jump out of my skin. "Watching the ships."

"Lord Baelish," Sansa greeted politely whilst I watched him warily.

"Might I speak with Lady Sansa alone for a moment?" Baelish asked.

Before I could decline and tell him where he could take his twirled moustache, Sansa grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

I squeezed it back. With a sigh I stood up and curtsied to Sansa. "I'll leave you to it then Sansa. Come get me if you need me for  _any_  reason regardless of how much the pest bothers you."

Brushing past Baelish, I knocked my shoulder into his forcefully.

Unfortunately a splash was not heard as I walked back up to the Red Keep.

* * *

On my way to the Keep, Margaery had gotten hold of me and suddenly she and I were walking through the shit-stained streets of the city.

"My lady, you'll ruin your dress!" Her hand-maiden complained whilst I just walked through the pile of shit in the boots I had worn at Stannis'.

I could feel Margaery twitch before she declared, "I have others."

* * *

As time went by, I was sat with dresses and dolls in my lap for sewing back together or just adjusting them slightly whilst Margaery dealt with the young boys.

"...He was a soldier. He went to fight on the walls when the ships came into Blackwater Bay. He never came back."

"And your mother?" Margaery asked.

"She died when she had me," the boy replied.

"Bad men wanted to come into this city and do terrible things, but your father stopped them." Taking a small wooden knight from her handmaiden, she gave it to the boy. "Whenever you look at this knight, I want you to remember your father."

"He wasn't a knight..." Margaery's voice continued in the background but I was more focused on the little boy who had just tugged on my skirt.

Upon seeing him, I almost instantly recognised him. "I remember you. Did you enjoy the bread and apples?"

He beamed at me, a gapped smile greeting me warmly. "Thank you my lady!"

"Do you like knights? Was your father one?"

"No... A thief," the boy replied.

"...Thieves are cool? But you know what, you can be a knight if you try hard enough. Even if not in name, just by being righteous and honourable."

Standing up, Margaery drew my attention back to her as she declared, "Under King Joffrey's leadership, your fathers saved the city. They saved us all. From now one, we're going to take care of you. All of you." Turning away from the crowd, she spoke quietly to the matron of the orphanage.

"Anyone for a story?" Positive response as the children sat in front of me, patiently awaiting. "Okay. Once upon a time..."

* * *

Returning to my rooms, I requested a bath so I could at least have smooth skin and not smell of shit.

As I waited for it, Emma passed me a scroll. "My lady, a letter for you."

"The seal is broken..." I mutter as I stare at the shifted parchment and the cracked gold wax holding the parchment together.

"Pardon me, my lady?"

"Nothing." I think for a minute, my hand hovering over the letter opener before inquiring, "Who fetches the letters for me?"

"A hand maiden, my lady. Lorenah must have taught you this, surely?"

"Yes of course... Apologies, it slipped my mind."

In the desk were drawers I could only unlock with the key Emma had given me a few days ago. Unlocking it, I placed the letter inside and then re-locked it before tucking the key away and beginning to plan.

_If Tyrion can play the Game of Thrones, then so can I._

Taking out five pieces of parchment, I write the same message on each of them whilst addressing them to different people.

_Time to find out if there's a spy in our midsts..._

* * *

After my first scheme was laid out, I had an embroidery lesson where I delivered a letter to Nym, a lesson on my duties as a bannerman by Lorenah where I also delivered a letter, a 'meeting' with Emma where I delivered a letter, a bath run by Alis where I delivered a letter and being dressed into a beautiful black and white off-shoulder gown that ended just below the knee matched with pearls and my signet ring... where I delivered a letter.

All of that delivering and being entitled has made me aware that I need to do what Viserys requested of me a while ago; discuss trade with the Lannisters because he still wanted them dead.

_Understandable._

After knocking on the door to Tywin's office in the tower of the hand softly, I was ordered to come in, bypassing the gold-cloak by the door.

"My Lord," I greeted, curtseying.

"...Lady Slytherin."

"You seem like you were expecting someone else... I hope I'm not interrupting you. Am I?"

"No." Tywin places his quill down and gives me his full attention as I walk over to him, ignoring the chair by the desk.

Perching on the end of the table next to him, my legs dangling over the edge, I catch his gaze on the bare skin of my leg that is revealed by my dress.

Instead of coughing to grab his attention, I speak as if I hadn't noticed his unfaltering stare. "I'm here to discuss the trades of the city of Qarth with you."

"Yes, your new  _position_  as the First Lady of Qarth has garnered you more attention in court. Another name for your list, my lady?"

I roll my eyes and smirk. "Are you haven't got a list? The richest man in Westeros, Old Lion, Warden of the West, Lord of Casterly-"

"I know my own titles," Tywin interrupts me before taking up his quill again. "Now, shall we begin?"

"Certainly. Now unfortunately your previous trade route masters have been... replaced however I can assure you that a trade with me is a guarantee."

* * *

In our discussion we had discussed the trade routes, the economy and after finishing the business side; we had begun a light conversation about  _things_  and  _stuff._

That disappeared completely as Tyrion forced the door open.

"Tyrion! I'm glad you've recovered."

_Hasn't recovered his nose._

"Thank you, my lady." Tyrion's smile disappeared into a wry smirk. "The badge looks good on you. Almost as good as it looked on me. Are you enjoying your new position?" Tyrion asked, helping himself to the seat opposite Tywin's desk where I still sat. His now black iris glinted in the sunlight, given the chance to now that his nose was mostly out of the way.

"Am I enjoying it?" Tywin asked.

 **"** Yes.  _I_ was _very_ happy as Hand of the King," Tyrion remarked.

"Yes. I heard how happy you were. You brought a _whore_ into my bed."

_I could excuse myself or just watch shit hit the fan._

Tyrion flinched almost before stating, "It wasn't your bed at the time."

_Shit hitting fan it is then._

"I sent you here to _advise_ the king. _I_ gave you _real_ power and authority. _You_ chose to spend your days as you always have: bedding harlots and drinking with thieves."

Tyrion shrugged it off as he smirked at me. "Occasionally I drank with the harlots."

_Dick._

"What do you want, Tyrion?" Tywin asked.

Wide-eyed, he 'innocently' asked, "Why does everyone assume I want something? Can't I simply visit with my _beloved_ father? My beloved father who somehow _forgot_ to visit his wounded son after he fell on the battlefield-"

"Maester Pycelle and Lady Slytherin assured me your wounds were not fatal."

_Where is my popcorn?_

" _I_ organised the defense of this city while you held court in the ruins of Harrenhal. _I_ led the foray when the enemies were at the gate while your grandson, the king, quivered in fear behind the walls. _I_ bled in the mud for _our_ family. And as my reward, I was trundled off to some dark little cell. But what do I _want_? A little bloody gratitude would be a start."

Tywin breathed in as if meditation was going to help, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye before turning to his son. "Jugglers and singers require applause. You are a Lannister. Do you think I demanded a garland of roses every time I suffered a wound on a battlefield? Hmm?" Completely serious, Tywin stated, "Now, I have business to discuss, and I have seven kingdoms to look after and three of them are in open rebellion. So tell me what you _want_."

"I want what is mine by right," Tyrion replied. "Jaime is your eldest son, heir to your lands and titles. But he is a Kingsguard, forbidden from marriage _or_ inheritance. The day Jaime put on the white cloak, he gave up his claim to Casterly Rock. I am your _son_ and _lawful_ heir."

_This is medieval Jeremy Kyle and I am kind of loving it. McLoving it, one might say if I could get a sponsor but this is Westeros-_

When I tuned back in to the silence that had formed, it was to Tywin inquiring, "You want Casterly Rock?

Tyrion looked at me as if to say 'can you believe this? This is what I have to put up with?' before he stated, "It is mine by right."

"We'll find you accommodations more suited to your name and as a reward for your accomplishments during the battle of Blackwater Bay. And when the time is right, you will be given a position fit for your talents so that you can serve your family and protect our legacy. And if you serve faithfully, you will be rewarded with a suitable wife. And I would let myself be consumed by maggots before mocking the family name and making you heir to Casterly Rock."

Then Tyrion asked the stupidest question on earth; "Why?"

"Why? You ask that? You, who killed your mother to come into the world? You are an ill-made, spiteful little creature full of envy, lust, and low cunning. Men's laws give you the right to bear my name and display my colours since I cannot prove that you are not mine. And to teach me humility, the gods have condemned me to watch you waddle about wearing that proud lion that was my father's sigil and his father's before him. But neither gods nor men will ever compel me to let you turn Casterly Rock into your whorehouse." Dismissively, he ordered, "Go, now. Speak no more of your rights to Casterly Rock. Go."

Wordlessly, Tyrion stands up to obey and begins to walk out with his gaze focused on anything but the people in the room with him.

"Oh, one more thing. The next whore I catch in your bed, I'll hang."

As if he had never said anything, he turned to me and asked, "Where were we?"

Suddenly I had dry mouth before I had to wet my lips before stating, "You said something about Harrenhal."

Tywin paused before stating, "For saying to me what you did that evening in Harrenhal... You reminded me of my sister. She said something similar once, long ago... and I ignored her for an entire summer."

I hummed in response before hesitantly asking, "Do you ever wonder... No, forgive me, my lord-"

"You've already begun you might as well finish," Tywin commanded.

"...If you're trying to deny what you believe to be true for duty or honour's sake? Perhaps not your own but..."

Tywin tensed, his gaze bearing down upon me like the sun. Unlike with the sun, I didn't look away even when he growled, "Leave me. Now."

I apologised quietly, standing and curtsying before leaving in silence to find Margaery who had requested for me to join her and Loras for dinner.

* * *

_FUCK!_

_Margaery had brought me so she and Loras had company. As long as I just get free food I should be fine._

Cersei seemed almost relieved to see me as she placed me on her left hand side, isolated my side of the table yet away from Joffrey.

_Speaking of the shitlord..._

Entering the room without the Imperial March, Joffrey approached the table where we all stood behind the chairs waiting for him... Cersei had fucked off for a bit to get some wine and had now returned.

"Your grace," the three of us parroted.

"Sit, sit," he ordered to which I complied like Joffrey whilst everyone else stood. Turning to Margaery he cracked a smile, " I do apologise, my lady. Small council meetings. At what point does it become treason to waste the king's time? That's a lovely gown, my lady."

"Yes, it suits you perfectly," I compliment.

Eyes wide in shock, Joffrey began, "My lady Stormbringer, I wasn't aware you were joining us-"

"Oh I apologise your Grace but Lady Slytherin and I have been friends for years. Her great counsel has aided me in the darkest of times. In fact it is she who told me of your valour." _You're kidding me right?_ Despite my calm exterior I was internally screaming; _DON'T FUCKING DRAG ME INTO YOUR BAD DECISIONS!_

"Thank you for joining us."

We fall back into an awkward silence until the Wine Mom/Vodka Aunt pipes up.

"I imagine you might be rather cold," Cersei remarked.

Still behind her chair with Loras silently at her side, Margaery replied, "The climate is a bit more forgiving back in Highgarden, Your Grace."

"Shall I have them bring you a shawl, my ladies?" Joffrey offered.

Margaery replied, "I am touched by your concern, your Grace. Luckily for us of the Reach, our blood runs quite warm... Doesn't it, Loras?"

"...Yes."

"Loras, isn't the Queen's gown magnificent?" Margaery complimented as falsely as her smile.

"You might find a bit of armour quite useful once you become queen. Perhaps before. Joffrey tells me you stopped your carriage at Flea Bottom on your way back from the sept this morning."

"Yes. Y/N accompanied me as I visited an orphanage the High Septon told me about."

"Margaery does a great deal of work with the poor back in Highgarden," Loras informed us. "The lowest among us are no different from the highest if you give them a chance and approach them with an open heart."

"An open heart is what you'll get in Flea Bottom if you're not careful, my dear. Not long ago, we were attacked by a mob there. We had a full complement of guards that didn't stop them. The king barely escaped with his life."

"My mother's always had a penchant for drama." _Yeah no fucking kidding._ "Facts become less and less important to her as she grows older. Our lives were never truly in danger."

"Really because I seem to remember things quite differently..." I muttered.

Cersei falsely smiled at her son. "You're right, of course. But you are your father's son. We can't all have a king's bravery."

"Hunger turns men into beasts," Margaery stated. "I'm glad House Tyrell and the good people of the Reach have been able to help in this regard. They tell me 100 wagons arrive daily now from the Reach. Wheat, barley, apples. We've had a blessed harvest. And, of course, it's our duty to assist the capital in time of need."

"Well, as Ser Loras said, Lady Margaery has done this sort of... charitable work before. I'm sure she knows what she's doing,"

"I'm sure she does," Cersei snidely remarks.

I yawn quietly. Taking this as a prompt to excuse myself, I turn to Joffrey and ask to leave.

"Lady Slytherin, you've not yet eaten..."

"Let her go, Joffrey. I'm sure there is private business to be discussed with your future bride."

A flicker of something crosses the King's face before disappearing like a shadow on the wall, yet his eyes burn with something that sets my teeth on edge.

Loras stands as I do. "Allow me to escort you to my grandmother, Lady Slytherin. She has been looking forward to seeing you and it would disappoint her to miss your visits," Loras offered before linking my arm with his, despite the confused look on my face.  _Clearly Olenna is the other Mother from Coraline or some shit because she is never pleased to see me. She'd be more pleased to see me choke on pie._  "May we be excused, your Grace?"

Joffrey stood and walked over to us. He took my hand in his and kissed the back of it again lightly. Without glancing at Loras, he wordlessly dismissed us.

Given permission, Loras lead me silently to meet Lady Olenna.

Well he tried to make conversation about the weather but I shut that shit down quickly.

* * *

"Good evening my..." _No one is here and the room is empty._

_Where's Lady O?_

Hands cover my eyes and before I can flip the fuck out and scream for my life, a familiar laugh fills the air.

"Willas!"

Brushing his hands away from my eyes I observe him in all his glory.

Leant against the cane with roses in his cheeks, he shyly admits, "I wanted to surprise you-"

I cut him off by hugging him tight. "Oh, you have!"

"Before we sit down I have to tell you that I have sent some flowers to your room. Now, shall we?"

I can only beam up at him as I take his offered hand.

_Man-candy and actual candy? How can I resist?_


	35. Adventure Time (Chapter 34)

Late at night, I was no tired and decided it was time to learn shit. Who better to teach me sword fighting than the Commander of the city watch?

"BRONN!" When I reached him, standing outside Tyrion's door, I blurted out, "I need you to teach me how to sword-fight?"

"And why would I do that-"

Showing him the contents of my full coin purse, I offer, "I have money and we can go for drinks afterwards. Then you can fuck off to fuck people. Deal?"

Deeply sighing, he shook my out-stretched hand. "Deal. Now, come on. We need to get you a sword."

* * *

One boring as fuck trip later where we walked in silence through the streets with his disgusting cloak over my head, we ended up in a small shop with a boot and needle over the door.

Yanking the cloak off of me, Bronn sent me almost staggering through the doorway.

The small old woman with charcoal skin and silver hair behind the counter, who I had not noticed before, shot up so quickly that she almost hit her head on the shelves behind her. Hurrying before me, she bowed low with a deep crack from her back.

"M'lady Slyth'rin, it is an honour for my family and me to have you here in our shop. Wh't is it you need?"

Over her bent back I could see a younger women with the same tight cloud-like curls and skin only a shade lighter.

"Fira, just some trousers, shirts, boots... maybe a cowl," Bronn answered for me. At their aghast look he simply shrugged. Shoving me further into the room where I couldn't make an escape, he began to leave, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be back in the hour!"

Turning to the now up-right woman who was leaning against her counter, I asked, "What's your name?"

"Firanysa Nestys, m'lady."

"Okay, Firanysa... I leave myself in your capable hands."

* * *

I barely registered when they had moved screens around me and had moved me up onto a stool. I didn't even register when my clothes had disappeared or fabric was being pressed on my body or thrust under my nose-

"OW!"

"I'm so sorry m'lady!" Firanysa apologised. Turning to her daughter who looked incredibly guilty, she snapped at her daughter in a language I didn't recognise. 

"What language is that?"

"V-Valyrian, m'lady," her daughter finally answered. Before I could say anything, she curtsied and stated, "I am Hesa."

"How much Valyrian do you know?"

"It is our mother tongue, m'lady."

" _Hesa_ -"

"How would you like a job?" At her shocked look, where she looked at her mother, I offered, "A job for both of you in my household."

_That's right, I can give jobs out left, right and centre._

* * *

"THANK YOU! PLEASE COME AGAIN SOON!" The Nestys women called after us, with me now clothed in the clothes they had made and a pair of boots given to me to try out whilst they made a proper pair. In their arms now laid the scroll I had made for the both of them to take to the Reach and Slytherin Keep, along with the money I had given them for their work

"I've never seen her work that quickly or that woman out of her shop... Did you offer to marry her daughter or somethin'?" Bronn asked, shifting the parcels in his arms of my dress and shoes I had been wearing this morning along with the sword.

"Nah, offered them jobs," I replied. At his odd look, I asked, "What? Have I got shit on my face? Because that's a real thing you know."

Bronn continued to stare at me for a little longer before commenting, "No wonder you and Lord Tyrion get along so well."

"'Cause we're not Cersei?"

Bronn's laughter echoed up the street as we walked back to the Red Keep.

* * *

"This... was not what I had in mind."

Sure, it was extremely secluded but as the water sloshed at the rocks near us and the air seemed still in the pale moonlight, I was more worried I was going to be murdered rather than have him teach me.

At least my new threads are cool in all green like a Survey Corps member but in green.

Chucking the parcel containing my clothes to the side, Bronn passed me the wrapped sword to unwrap.

Also not what I expected. For my first sword it was just a plain simple short sword.

With my now unwrapped sword, I held it in the grip Sam had shown me and placed myself into a stance. "Alright Mr Miyagi, show me what you got!"

* * *

"TIME OUT!" I cried. Gasping for breath, I flopped to the ground, my sword clattering to the ground still in my grasp, and lay down to die.

Bronn tapped his clean sword against my boot. "Get up, let's go in."

"Go on... without me." I closed my eyes and placed a weak hand upon my forehead. "Thank you... For the lesson... Tell Tyrion to suck a choad for allowing... my death." My tongue fell out of my mouth and I lay limp upon the ground.

I can see in my mind as Bronn rolls his eyes, sighing as he heaves me up and throws me over his shoulder.

My eyes heavy, knees weak, arms made of spaghetti, I felt myself drift off.

_I'll try and see Bran because if he's dead or not it's not like he's going to be doing much physical activity._

* * *

_Well he's not dead. But where's his brother?_

Upon spotting the wildling woman stood tense before Bran's made-up bed with a massive wolf at her side I began to say, "You made it out ali-"

The wildling woman grabbed me, pulling me to the ground so hard that I fell on my ass where she cupped a filthy hand around my mouth.

"Be quiet," she hissed the order. Her eyes remained on the misty forest before her.

Behind us, something rustled and pulling my sword to point at it, I realised Bran had just jolted awake.

"Y/N?"

I simply waved, motioning for him to be silent.

He ignored me as he whispered, "Where's Rickon? And Hodor?"

"Looking for food," the wildling replied in a whisper.

The pale direwolf began to pant heavily, a rumble forming in it's throat.

"What's out there?" She asked.

Walking back towards Bran, I kept my sword raised.  _Thank you Bronn for the lesson that may result in me not getting killed._

The wildling woman slowly stepped forwards, her large pointy stick raised. As she disappeared into the forest's mists, I lowered myself into a squat as if I was going to shit.

A howl echoed in the distance, barely covering the crunching of leaves as someone stepped towards us.

Standing up, I kept my sword trained on the moving figure. Next to me now, the direwolf began to growl.

Finally the person stepped into the clearing.

_Hi Thomas Brodie-Sangster. God you're too young looking for anyone to think you're fit._

As he moved closer and closer to the feral beast and myself, I waited for him to strike or do something than look like he was going to race through Westeros' airport to get the heart of the girl he loves.

"Not another step boy," the wildling woman warned. "Unless you want to drown in your own blood."

Surprisingly calm for having a spear at his neck, he simply kept his gaze on Bran and I.

"I'm unarmed."

"That was poor planning."

"My sister carries the weapons," Surprisingly grubbier Newt stated.

In a flash, I saw a girl appear behind the wildling with a knife at her throat. "I'm better with them. Now drop your weapons. Drop it."

Despite the stuff going on behind him where the wildling woman dropped her spear, the guy didn't move his gaze even when I blocked Bran from view behind me.

"You kill me... That wolf will tear you to bits," the wildling warned as she finally complied.

Taking this as a challenge, the guy stepped towards the snarling beast, raising a hand. "You must be Summer." Staring deep into her eyes, he smirks slightly just before her snarls dissolve and Summer begins to sniff at the offered hand before plodding off.

"This is some Nanny McPhee shit," I commented.

_Should not have done that._

Dog Whisperer's gaze turns to Bran and I. Gripping my sword tighter, I make sure it's in a steady hold as he nears.

With my sword a breath away from my throat, he stops. "I'm Jojen Reed. This is my sister, Meera." He looks back at his sister briefly. "We've come along way to find you Brandon Stark with the Lady of the Sky and we've got a long way to go."

"Yeah... Have fun with that." With my sword in a looser hold, I begin to backpedal with finger guns before tripping and smacking my head against something.

* * *

"Fuck me..." I groan, sitting up. With the soft grass beneath me, I don't hear the footsteps but I do hear the clanking armour that makes me look up.

"I'm not sure who you're offering my lady but I have to warn you that one of us is a woman as unlikely as that seems," Jaime snarks.

As I attempt to stand up, I stagger to the point that I grab onto Jaime and almost pull him down with me, if not for the strength of the goddess; Brienne.

Silently, she rights us both and then urges Jaime forwards with me trailing next to her.

As we cross the filed into a small forest across from it, Jaime begins to talk. "You know, it doesn't matter how loyal a servant you are, no one enjoys the company of a humourless mute. Trust me on this. People have been serving me since I was born. You think Lady Stark is going to want a giant towheaded plank following her around for the rest of her life? A week's journey with you and she'll order you to fall on your sword."

"If Lady Stark is unhappy with any aspect of my service, I'm sure she'll let me know. She's an honest woman."

I could barely contain the snort at the statement.

"All the good it's done to her."

I stop. Brienne stops and looks at me.  _For the first time, I can control myself as I have prying issues._

"I need to take a leak."

* * *

After pissing for what seems like the first time in ages, thankful for the lack of period to ruin my new threads, I stepped back around the tree to discover Brienne and Jaime at a standstill.

Jaime had to take a piss as well apparently except his takes forever so now I stand at Brienne's side avoiding looking at his dick. The same dick that's been in his sister.

"How did you come into Lady Stark's service? There's something we can talk about," Jaime attempted to make conversation.

"Not your concern, Kingslayer."

"It had to be recently. You weren't with her at Winterfell."

"How would you know?" Brienne asked.

"He visited Winterfell when Bobby B went North to mzke Ned the Hand," I explained.

"Besides... I would have noticed your dour head smacking into the archways." Shaking his dick to get the water off, he rubbed his bound hands on the tree moss after tucking his dick away.

Chancing a look, I nodded at Brienne to signal it was fine.

"Move," Brienne ordered, urging him forwards once more.

"Were you pledged to Stannis?"

"Gods, no."

Jaime's eyebrow quirked."Ah, Renly. _Really?_ He wasn't fit to rule over anything more important than a 12-course meal."

"Shut your mouth," Brienne ordered.

"Why?" Jaime asked as if he wasn't attempting to piss her off. "I lived with him at court since he was a boy, don't forget. Could hardly escape the little tulip skipping down the corridors in his embroidered silks. I knew him far better than you."

"I knew him as well as anyone. As a member of his Kingsguard, he trusted me with everything. He would have been a wonderful king."

"Sounds like you quite fancied him," Jaime accused.

"I did not fancy him," Brienne denied.

_Liar liar, nice ass on fire._

Eyes widening in realisation, Jaime began, "Oh, gods, you did. Did you ever tell him? No, of course not. You weren't Renly's type, I'm afraid. He preferred curly-haired little girls like Loras Tyrell. You're far too much man for him."

"I'm not interested in _foul_ rumours."

"Unless they're about me," Jaime stated. "It's all true about Renly. His proclivities were the worst kept secret at court. It's a shame the throne isn't made out of cocks. They'd have never got him off it."

"Shut your mouth!" Brienne shouted, grabbing his hair and yanking his head down with her mouth over his as if they're going to kiss.

_Could it be... A new ship?_

Gazing deep into her blue depths, he softly said, "I don't blame him. And I don't blame you, either. We don't get to choose who we love."

That tender moment was ruined by a horse making a noise nearby, prompting me behind the tree we were next to.

A man with a horse must have been passing by because in a heavily northern accented voice he asked, "Where are you headin' then?"

"South," Jaime replied. "You?"

"Riverrun. Staying off the king's land, are you? They get you no matter where you go. You can't win."

"No, you really can't."

"Looks like you're safe enough though. Meaning no offence m'lady, but..." the stranger chortled a little before finishing his sentence, "I wouldn't tangle with ya." Jaime laughed back in return falsely. "Seven blessings to ya!"

"And to you," Brienne replied.

Once sure he was gone, I stepped out from behind the tree as Jaime stated, "He knows who I am."

"Egotistic bastard."

"He does not," Brienne denied.

"Maybe you're right but what if you're not? What if he tells someone?"

"Sorry Brienne. Gotta agree with Jaime on this one," I admitted.

"...We're not doing it," Brienne finalised. "He's an innocent man."

"No one is ever truly innocent," I absently muttered, watching as Brienne urged Jaime forwards, leaving me behind to focus on my need for a drink now that all of my liquid reserves have been cleared.

* * *

_I deserve a drink for all the shit I put up with... Oh look, a pub!_

Entering the pub, I withdrew two silver stags from the coin purse and placed them on the bar as I ordered, "Whatever doesn't taste like piss."

He returned with a small goblet of clear water.

_Fucking figures._

Taking my cup of water, I found a spare seat in the tavern and sat with my back against the wall and surveyed the room.

From one of the most crammed tables came the most laughter so I fixed my gaze upon them, the sword in my lap.

A drunken man with a a bald patch in his long hair seems to telling a story, "...Never liked the skinny ones. It's like drinking from a puddle.  Not that I'm averse to drinking from a puddle every now and again, you understand."

The man attempts to pour a cup for the short-haired kid before him who denies it. "I don't drink ale."

_Arya?_

"There's no story so good, a drink won't make it better."

"YEAH!" His crew crow.

"You see? They've all suffered through my bouts of sobriety, it's very tedious for all concerned. Now, how did three children-"

"We're not children," Arya retorts.

"...How did three young persons such as yourselves, untrained in the art of war, escape from Harrenhal?" Old hipster inquired.

"Gendry's a smith," Arya replied. "He was apprenticed in the armory."

"A smith, eh?"

The tall man with eyes as blue as sapphires nods. If he was clean I may think he was fit... or just his top off.

"Where'd you train?" Drunk-y asked.

Arya and Gendry exchange a look before Gendry states, "King's Landing. Tobho Mott's shop."

"That criminal!" Drunk-y exclaimed with the same disgust of a hipster learning his date didn't listen to vinyl. "He charges twice as much as every other armourer in the city."

"That's because he's twice as good."

"A-ha!" _Pity there's no 'Take On Me' available on a jukebox._ "A smith AND a salesman."

"Gendry stole us weapons," Arya stated.

"Ah. Fought your way out of Harrenhal, I see." The disbelief on Drunk-y's face was almost what I must have looked like when I was grieving my phone.

"He knows how to use a sword, and so do I," Arya boasted.

The outlaws burst into laughter.

"My brothers taught me!"

As the outlaws laugh again, Arya leaps up, draws her sword, and points it at Drunk-y's chest.

"Ooooh!" All members of the tavern, myself included, were hyped as fuck for this.

Drunk-y looks at Arya for a moment before standing up. Drawing his own sword, he disarms her in one motion.

_DISAPPOINTED!_

Placing his sword back down, he swipes a goblet off a nearby table. "To your brothers!" He raises the goblet.

His group cheer once more and I settle back in my seat, pretty miffed there's no fight despite the fact that it would have been a young girl against a fully grown man.

Arya snatches the sword off the ground once more and re-takes her seat in silence.

"You can finish your meals before you go. It may be a while before you see another."

"You'll free us?"

_Oh wow, so first you kidnapped children and then you almost killed one of them. Fucking hell, this place needs child services._

Arya stands up, yanking the fat boy with her so her other friend can get up.

Drunk-y stands up as well. "But before you go... Allow me to raise a cup to-"

Whatever he was about to say is never to be heard of again as the lads roll in. No idea who they are but they make the usual noises of a group of idiots coming into a bar. Those idiots forced a large man with a bag over his head into a low doorway which he banged his head into.

"That," Drunk-y begins, pointing at the large man with the bag over his head. "Is an uncommonly large person. How does one manage to subdue such an uncommonly large person?"

The bound up man began to wriggle.

"One waits for him to drink until he passes out," an archer replies.

Drunk-y staggers closer to the bag head. "Poor man, you have my sympathy." Then he tugs the bag off of his head.

_SANDOR?!_

Arya immediately turns away from Sandor and even I shift in my chair so I'm not directly looking at him.

"A-ha! Not a man at all!" Drunk-y turns away before declaring, "A Hound!"

The crowd begin to howl and woof in mocking. I can barely hear what he says next over the commotion.

I hear Sandor just fine. "Thoros? The fuck you doing here?"

"Drinking and talking too much, same as ever," Thoros replies.

Arya grabs the fat kid and forces him before her along with Gendry. As she passes Sandor, he turns to gaze at her back. "Girl!"

_Keep walking. Just keep swimming..._

She turns around to face him just as he leans close to Thoros. "What in the Seven Hells are you doing with the Stark bitch?" Their gazes land on Arya. "Who next, the Stormbringer herself?" Sandor's gaze roams the bar until it stops on me, pulling my hood over my face. "Or did you not know she was here all along?"

Arya's gaze flicks to me and her eyes widen in shock. "Y/N!?"

Face-palming, I finish my drink in one go and rise up... then attempt to bolt past before being grabbed.

"Nice try~"

I shrugged in the hold of the guy who had caught me yet graciously let me keep my sword. "Worth a shot."

As we're forced out of the pub, I meet Sandor's gaze and scowl at him before making myself limp in the guys arms. So limp in fact that I could hardly tell the difference between me focusing on Jaime and Brienne's adventure, anything is more fun than this, and falling asleep.


	36. Arson's My Hobby, Not Politics (Chapter 35)

I may have fallen asleep as when I stood up, it's pitch black and the only clearing is illuminated with Jaime and Brienne shackled against a tree, a band of men surrounding them.

_Even if I was as good as Zorro, I still wouldn't chance it, even when they unshackled Jaime and brought him over to the fire._

I can't hear anything until Jaime was urged past the table to the stump just before my tree.

"Will this work as a table, m'lord?" The ring leader asked.

"Yes, yes. This will do nice- AH!" Jaimed was forced to his knees and the two men either side of him pushed him face first into the stump.

The ring-leader stepped over the Kingslayer's leg before grabbing Jaime by the hair and drawing a large knife which he held close to Jaime's eye. Disdianfully, the ring-leader claimed, "You think you're the smartest man there is. Everyone alive has to bow to lick and scrape your boots."

Channelling the might of Malfoy, Jaime began, "My father-"

"-And if you get in any trouble, all you got to do is say 'My father' and that's it. All your troubles are gone."

 _Oh God he is Malfoy_. I have to bite my fist to stop myself making any noise.

The point of the knife is pressed to Jaime's right eye.

"Don't," Jaime weakly whispers.

"Have you got something to say?" The knife is pressed harder drawing a painful groan from Jaime. "You don't want to say the wrong thing. You're nothing without your daddy, and your daddy ain't here. Never forget that."

As the ring-leader rose, moving the knife away as he stepped backwards, Jaime let out a sigh of relief. Stopping, he declared, "Here, this should help you remember!"

Swinging the blade down, he cleaves Jaime's hand off. As Jaime screams his head off, the ground races up to greet me.

_This was shit. Should have just gone to Qarth._

* * *

And Qarth is where I woke up, clothed in a light blue gown that cascaded upon my body like a waterfall with the layers like waves overlapping each other.

Groggily, I asked the man standing by the chaise lounge I was sat upon, "Ser Barristan... How is he?"

"His Grace is..." Barristan trailed off with a sigh. "You had best see for yourself."

Offering me a hand which I gratefully took, I was hauled up onto unsteady feet and lead through the golden halls of the Spice King's old crib before his pumpkin was smashed.

Stopping at a large set of doors, Barristan pushed the doors open to reveal a harem of veiled women.

Scantily clad women of my approximate skin colour and body type, some with hair my colour peeking out from the back of their veils, swarmed the room and buzzed around the focal point who was laying back on a pile of golden pillows.

"Your grace, you have a visitor."

Viserys groaned, pushing the girls off of him. In his haste, one of the girls slipped and the others took this as a sign to hurry away, flooding past me in a mad stampede like silhouettes I had never asked for.

"My lady-" Ser Barristan began, noticing my absence in following him into the room.

"It's a room full of women that look like me!" I hissed at him. "Excuse me before being a bit worried."

Taking a deep breath, I entered the room and stood next to Barristan.

In large crimson and silver robes, Viserys lay in his nest with a twisted circlet sat crooked upon his head.

"Um... Nice collection of women?"

Viserys simply groaned in reply.

"Why?" I asked.

That's when I knew, I fucked up.

* * *

"I just wanted to give her nice things... Like orgasms and jewels~" Viserys whined in a similar fashion as he had been for quite a while.

"There, there." I patted his head now free of the circlet.

"Mysterious figure, what do I have to do to be with her? Who do I have to be?" Viserys asked as he slurred.

 _Not yourself..._  "I do not have all the answers, I'm afraid. However... Maybe being nicer to your sister? Or give her your dragon?"

"I would do almost anything but *hic*, I can't give up my dragon."

"Okay... Sober up?"

"That is *hic* reasonable~ Before I do that... Will you... Will you play Cyvasse with me?" Viserys asked, clinging to me even more.

"...Alright but you'll have to teach me," I agreed.

_So I sat and played Cyvasse, a nonsensical version of chess, until Viserys passed out on the board. After calling in Ser Barristan to make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit, I chose to find his sister._

* * *

_This is like Dragon's Den..._

Standing side by side with Daenerys before a bald man in a chair with a translating servant girl at his side, I felt less intimidated than I had a few minutes ago when I had appeared outside his 'palace' walls and gazed upon a row of men hanging upon crucifixes that made me empty what seemed like my entire insides.

"All?" The translating girl asked, bringing me back to the discussion at hand. "Did this one's ears mishear you, your grace?"

"They did not," Daenerys firmly responded. "I want to buy them all."

Clearly the servant girl was only translating the nice stuff as she asked, "There are eight thousand Unsullied in Astapor. Is this what you mean by all?”

"Yes. Eight thousand and the ones still in training as well."

Once again translating the nice stuff, the servant said, "Master Kraznys says they cannot sell half trained boys. If they fail on the battlefield, they will bring shame upon all of Astapor."

"I will have them all or take none," Daenerys stated. "Many will fall in battle. I will have the boys to pick up the swords they drop."

"Master Kraznys says you cannot afford this," the servant girl translated. "Your ship will buy you one hundred Unsullied..." Cracker or whatever eyed Daenerys up and down as well as myself with a lewd smirk that honestly made me long to dip my skin in wildfire. "Because Master Kraznys is generous. The gold you have left is worth ten but good Master Kraznys will give you twenty. The Dothraki you have with you... The Dothraki you have are not worth what they cost to feed but Master Kraznys will give you three Unsullied for all of them."

Catching Daenerys' gaze shift upwards, I leant over to her and gazed upon the slave girls peering into the pit. "Psst, please tell me that she's just translating the nice shit and I'm not alone in this theory."

Her lip only quirked in reply.

"Master Kraznys asks how you propose to pay for the remaining 7,877 Unsullied?"

"Cash or cheque?" I offered.

With a confident smile, Daenerys met the woman's gaze and stated, "I have dragons. I'll give you one."

_Don't even attempt to barter? Not even a little?_

Crayon looks interested now though.

Jorah, who I forgot was there, begged, "Khaleesi... Please."

At her stern look, he looked away and stepped back.

For the first time, Kraznys spoke without need for a translation, "Three dragons."

"One!" Daenerys' offer was shouted in protest.  _Probably because she would have to beg her brother for the other one._

"Two!"

"One! That's our final offer!" I interrupted, tired of the squabbling in the midday sun.

The biggest one was demanded, all the men in this world are over-over-compensating.

Before Daenerys began to take her leave, she gazed back at the translator before stating, "I’ll take you as well, now. You'll be Master Kraznys gift to me for my friend _Se Chosen mēre_ -" Despite the slave girl's head popping up with her eyes wide at me, I had to speak up.

"No thanks," I rejected. At Daenery's almost withering look I elaborated, "No offense but I'm not really into owning slaves but you do you."

"Then you will serve me; a token of a bargain well struck."

* * *

"Khaleesi!" Jorah called after Daenerys' retreating figure whilst I was busy trying not to slip on the gravel in these heels or slip because of the sweat. "A dragon is worth more than any army. Your ancestors-"

Stilling, Daenerys turned on Jorah allowing me to catch up to them. "You're here to advise me. I value your advice but if you ever question me in front of strangers again... You'll be advising someone else. Is that understood?"

Taking my arm in hers, she turned with me and we walked past the servant girl with a cloud of curls before she began to follow us as a new addition to our party.

"So... Do you have a name?" I asked to break the tension.

"This one’s name is Missandei, _Se Chosen mēre_ ," Missandei replied with her head still low.

_Memo to me; Have got to ask what the importance of that is soon._

"Do you have a family? Mother or father you’d return to if you had the choice?” Daenerys asked.

“No, your grace…no family living,” she solemnly replied.

“You belong to me now. It is your duty to tell me the truth.”  _Oh yes, slavery._

 _"_ Yes, your grace, lying is a great offense. Many of those on the Walk of Punishment were taken there for less," Missandei elaborated.

“I offered water to one of the slaves dying on the Walk of Punishment, and you know what he said to me: ‘Let me die.’”

“There are no masters in the grave, your grace.”

"There are in Hell," I stated.

"Is it true what Master Kraznys told me about the Unsullied?" Daenerys inquired to change the topic. "About their obedience? All questions have been taken from them."

"They obey, that is all. Once they are yours, they are yours. They will fall on their swords if you command it."

"And what about you? You know that I'm taking you to war. You may go hungry, you may fall sick, you may be killed. "

" _Valar Morghulis_ ," Missandei stated.

"Yes, all men must die. But we are not men."

_Speaking of men, I have someone to talk to now he's hopefully sober._

* * *

Viserys was much sober and alone now but he had somehow lost his shirt, leaving his pale skin to contrast with the blue and gold pillows he laid upon.

One of those pillows was actually a dragon that stirred when I sat on the pillows opposite Viserys.

"You remember Viserion, do you not?" Viserys asked.

"Hello~" I cooed to the dragon now as big as a large dog.

Raising a hand, I let it sniff me before rubbing it's head against my out-stretched palm.

Scratching at the dragon, I locked eyes with Viserys who was watching the scene with a soft gaze.

"Viserys. I need you to listen to and listen to me carefully, okay?" I began. "This may be the most important thing I ask of you ever... Don't quote me on that. But, let's get down to business."

"Why rush? Now as King I have all of the time in the-"

"Do you?" I raised an eyebrow. "It seems to me that you're lonely."

Viserys threw his head back as he laughed as if it was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard of. When he got over his bout of madness, I had Viserion's head in my lap and snatched a half pomegranate from a nearby plate.

"How about this, your grace?" Viserys preened at my words. "We shall make a deal and use this pomegranate to signify our deal. Are we not close enough to forgo formality?"

Taking it from my hand, Viserys picked out one seed. "What is your end of the deal?" Viserys inquired, offering it to me.

Boldly, I ate it from his fingers. Once it was eaten and his gaze heated, I stated, "Where I am from, a _king_ once used a pomegranate to bind a woman to his land. Fitting, no?" At his smirk, I asked, "Now what is it that you want in return for a small favour?"

Viserys' smirk stretched.

* * *

A deal now struck, I chose to leave Viserys and Viserion to sleep off the upcoming hangover only to fall into the nest of pillows and begin to nap beside Viserys.

Upon awakening, I realised I was in the same spot I had once hid in.

_Okay, tower of the hand... Why?_

Turning the corner and entering the room on the right of me, I see a long table with Tywin standing at the farthest end of the table behind the head seat.

"My lady, thank you for agreeing to meet me here. Please, take a seat," Tywin demands rather than offers as he gestures to the chair next to him on his right.

_Sure... Ok..._

As I took my place behind the chair to his right, Tywin's lips shifted before re-settling into the blank mask at the sound of footsteps growing louder.

At the entrance of the room, Varys, Petyr and Pycelle stood still for a moment before Tyrion came up behind them.

Nodding to them and me in turn, Tywin sat down whilst I followed suit.

Meanwhile, Baelish decided to hurry and take the seat on Tywin's immediate left of the five chairs left on that side alone. Varys followed with a roll of his eyes as Pycelle shadowed him.

Tyrion remained at the door listening to the upcoming footsteps. Soon enough, Cersei had joined the room.

After a moment's hesitation, she took a seat from the end of the table and after lifting it, carried it around to my side of the table until she was sat on my right with a smug look on her face as she watched Tyrion.

Tyrion, not wanting to be out-done, confidently stepped forward. Taking the last chair, he titled it back and began to scrape it across the floor until it rested at the opposite end of the table to Tywin.

One quick look informed that his father was not impressed.

"Intimate. Lovely table," Tyrion commented as he looked around the room. "Better chairs than the old small council chamber and better company-" Tyrion nodded at me before locking eyes with his father. "Conveniently close to your own quarters. I like it."

"What news of Jaime?" Silence echoes in the small council chamber as I try my hardest to look like Jon Snow and know nothing. "Twenty thousand unwashed Northerners have known about his escape for weeks. Collectively, you control more spies and informants than the rest of the world combined. Do you mean to tell me that none of you has any notion where he is? "

Varys spoke up, "We are trying, my lord-"

"Try harder! What do we have then?"

"Robb Stark and most of his bannermen are in Riverrun for the funeral of his grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully. In Stark's absence, Roose Bolton holds Harrenhal..." Smirking at LittleCock, Varys states, "Which would make him Lord of Harrenhal, in practice if not in name-"

"Let him have it; the name suits our purposes far more than that useless pile of rubble. The Lord of Harrenhal will make a worthy suitor for the widow Arryn."

I could barely stop myself rolling my eyes and Baelish bowed his head as he acknowledged, "For which I am extremely grateful to you, my lord. Lady Arryn and I have known each other since we were children; she has always been...positively _predisposed_ towards me."

"A successful courtship would make Lord Baelish Acting Lord of the Vale," Pycelle pointed out, fidgeting with a scroll.

"Titles _do_ seem to breed titles."

"You'll leave for the Eyrie as soon as possible and bring Lysa Arryn into the fold," Tywin ordered. "Then the Young Wolf can add his own aunt to the list of people who've taken up arms against him!"

"Far be it from me to hinder true love, but Lord Baelish's absence would present certain problems," Tyrion began. "The royal wedding may end up being the most expensive event in living memory. Summer has ended, hard days lie ahead, not a good time to leave the crown's finances unattended."

"Fully agreed, which is why I am naming you Master of Coin."

As Cersei sniggered at Tywin's words, I choked on the air.

"Master of Coin?!" Tyrion echoed in disbelief.

"It would appear to be a position that best suits your talents."

Leaning forwards, Tyrion began to tap at the table. In earnest he began to elaborate, "I'm quite good at spending money, but a lifetime of outrageous wealth hasn't taught me about managing it!"

Cersei sarcastically offered, "I have no doubt you will prove equal to this challenge."

Sarcasm breeds sarcasm as Pycelle declares, "Hear, hear!"

"As well as my son being named Master of Coin, I also wish to instate Lady Slytherin as advisor to the crown, a decision my grandson introduced to me initially."

_Oh fuck me up a tree..._

* * *

As the hours tick by with things being discussed, I occasionally answer yes or no but do no more until Tywin declares, "That is all for today."

"What about trade or foreign relations? Who's master of that?" I ask out of nowhere.

Baelish began to speak, "No such thing exists-"

"Well maybe it should because then we probably wouldn't have a war based on independence being wanted nor would trade with Essos be a hard thing especially considering the Targaryens rule most of it." At Tywin's calculating look I suggested, "I could do that instead-"

"No. I will appoint Prince Doran of House Martell for this role," Tywin stated. "Now that is all unless anyone  _else_  wishes to make their matters known to be settled?"

Clearly no one did because one by one they all began to rise out of their seats, leaving respectfully. Well, except Tyrion as he just fucked off.

As I made my move to go, barely rising out of my chair just after a scowling Cersei left, Tywin called my name. "Lady Slytherin." 

"Yes, my lord?" I sat back down, turning to face him.

"My lady, would you join me for dinner later this evening? We have much to discuss in preparation for your new role on the small council."

"Of course, my lord," I accepted graciously. "If that is all..."

"It is."

Standing up as he did, I tucked my chair in and turned back to face him. Tywin took the hand that still rested on the back of the chair, raising it to his lips and placing a peck upon it before letting it drop to my side.

Curtseying politely when he lets go of my hand, I speed-walk from the room until I almost knock into Tyrion who seems to have been waiting for me.

* * *

"Will you put down the wine and help me?"

"Nah~" I drained my goblet of wine to prove it. Offering the goblet to Bronn, who poured some more wine in to it, I gazed over at Tyrion reviewing the kingdom's ledgers.

After flicking through a few pages, Tyrion began, "For years I've heard that Littlefinger is a magician: whenever the Crown needs money, he rubs his hands together and - poof! - mountains of gold."

"Let me guess: he's not a magician," Bronn speculated.

"...No," Tyrion drawled.

"He's stealing it?" Bronn asked.

Looking at the ledger and Tyrion's expression, I answered, "Worse - he's borrowing it."

"What's wrong with that?" Bronn inquired.

"We can't afford to pay it back. That's what's wrong with it. The Crown owes millions to my father."

"Seeing as it's his grandson's ass on the throne, I imagine he'll forgive that debt."

I snorted as Tyrion looked incredulous. "Forgive a debt? My father? For a man of the world, you're strangely naive."

Bronn shrugged. "I've never borrowed money before. I'm not clear on the rules."

"Well, ahem, the basic principle is I lend you money, and after an agreed-upon period of time, you return it with interest," Tyrion explained.

"And what if I don't?"

"Well...you have to."

"But what if I don't?" Bronn asked.

With a sigh, Tyrion stated, "This is why I don't lend you money. Anyway, it's not my father I'm worried about, it's the Iron Bank of Braavos. We owe them tens of millions. If we fail to repay these loans, the Bank will fund our enemies. One way or another, they always get their gold back."

"You could go into business?" I offered. "Worked for me..."

Tyrion just snorted.

* * *

Tired and slightly pissed I staggered back to my room and flopped onto the bed. Wriggling out of the dress, I crawled under the covers to await sleep...

"M'lady," Nym addressed me. "Madam Stonetree is here to see you."

With a groan, I pulled myself out of bed and took the thick dressing gown from the end of the bed where Nym must have put it before.

_Time for more lessons..._

* * *

At the end of my lesson on the influence of court and duties a lady can do to increase her standing, Lorenah bid farewell.

Sitting at my desk, I took the key and unlocked the private drawer. Withdrawing the Qartheen stamped scroll, I slit the stamp with the letter opener and began to read;

_Dear heart,_

_I hope you think of me as often as I think of you._

_Yours, loyally and always,_

_His Highness, Viserys of House Targaryen,_

_Ruler of Qarth_

Standing up, I took the small box that had been with the letter originally in the desk and moved over to the table.

Sitting down, I opened it to reveal a solid silver dragon pin, one of the pins I had worn to Daenerys' wedding to Viserys.

Placing it back in the box, I closed it and attempted to focus on something else in case I teleported.

In a large crystal vase in the middle of the table sits the bouquet Willas had sent for me and recalling my lessons on flowers, I picked through it.

The bouquet consists of a dark red rose (romantic love/Eros, unconscious beauty), an orange rose (enthusiasm and desire), an Aster (daintiness and a symbol of love), a solid blood red carnation (Yes and my heart yearns for you), a white clover (think of me), some fern dotted around (sincerity), and an Iris (a message).

The flowers he gave me the second time we met; a red and white rose entwined (unity).

The flower he gave me when we first met; a Lavender rose (love at first sight).

_I've been so blind._

"Am I disturbing you?"

"Willas!" I stood from the table, clutching the top of my dressing gown closed to hide any cleavage.

"I have something for you," I stated. Taking a solid carnation from the bouquet I place it in the hand that wasn't holding onto his cane, allowing him to take in the meaning of it.

The carnation is swapped into the hand holding the cane and he places an gentle hand under my chin and turns my head towards him, drawing me closer-

Someone coughed.

Willas' gaze flicked to the side, eyes widening as he exclaimed, "Your grace!"

Willas dropped his hand and hobbled a safe enough distance, leaning on his cane heavily so he wasn't near me.

"I was hoping the lady Slytherin and I could speak in private. I would  _hate_  to interrupt-"

"No, your grace. I was just leaving. Good day, your grace... my lady." Willas hobbles away leaving me with the King.

"My lady, I know we haven't spoken much as of late but I feel I should clarify the situation concerning my betrothal." Taking my hand in his gently, he escorted me to the chaise lounge and sat beside me upon it. Turning to me, he cupped my face in his hands. "My heart will always belong to you but Margaery is a true queen for the people and Mother says... Well that doesn't matter. What matters is that no matter how it may seem, I am still yours. Whatever you wish of me, be it my last breath or the last coin in my bank, will be yours if you simply ask it of me. Now, I must be off to say farewell to my betrothed before I leave. Farewell for now, my lady." Joffrey took my hand in his, laying an open-mouthed kiss upon it as he kept his gaze locked on mine before withdrawing. Before he stood, he cupped my face once more and placed a tender kiss upon my forehead and finally stood and left without another word.

For a while I just sat in silence until Emma came in and reminded me of my invitation for supper with Tywin and urged me to get re-dressed.

* * *

"My lady," Tywin greeted me as he took my hand in his, kissing the back of it delicately before tucking it into the crook of his arm. Leading me to the table through the rooms of the Tower of the Hand, I had to wonder why he bothered considering the short distance.

As I sat down, his hand rested on the back of my chair. Moving away, his fingers danced along the back of my neck before Tywin sat himself down.

"May this be the beginning of a successful partnership," I offered as a toast to which Tywin echoed and raised his own goblet of water.

Silently, we began to eat our meal in silence until halfway through, with the guilt of knowledge weighing upon me, I began, "Now, I hate to ruin the mood but about your son, Jaime..."

**Knock knock**

"Enter!"

The door was pushed open by one of Tywin's guards to reveal Varys. "Pardon my intrusion, Lord Hand, but may I borrow Lady Slytherin for but a moment?"

"I suppose." Tywin looked incredibly pissed off despite his calm tone.

Leaving the table, I curtsey and follow Gossip Girl from the room until we're standing just outside, the guard having gone around the corner.

"One of my spies intercepted a letter today. Would you care to explain it?" Varys inquired.

A scroll was placed into my hands delicately, stamped with my now broken sigil and revealed the words I had written over and over;

_Dearest,_

_My time here grows short. Prepare the shipment of **squid.**_

"Of course. Despite being new to the positions I've been granted, I'm not ignorant of what people would do for power so I've been playing the game."

"The game?" He asked knowingly.

"Cyvasse, of course. A game from Essos that I should begin trading here soon but I will have to speak with..."

"Prince Doran of House Martell. The First Master of Trade," Varys answered. "Now, I shall leave you to your meal. Good day, my lady."

Watching him walk away, I ripped the letter up into pieces until he turned the corner and shoved them in my mouth, chewing until they dissolved.

Mouth now extremely dry, I headed back in for what may be the first of many dinners, hopefully with plenty of water.

"Well?" Tywin asked.

"It was nothing just a situation concerning my servants," I replied. When he didn't speak or chew or make any noises, I flicked my gaze up at Tywin and his raised eyebrow. "Oh, yes, about our previous topic... Your son is going to be less _hand_ y. I mean _hand_ s down, he is a great soldier but _hand_ ling a sword may be more difficult for him now that he's lost a hand."

"I beg your pardon?!"


	37. FUUUUUCK (Chapter 36)

"...My son lost his hand? Which one?"

I hesitated to answer, "...His right. It came off in one clean cut."

Tywin closed his eyes, his breath faltering as he clenched his grasp around the goblet, an almost snarl on his face before he re-settled his mask.

"Where?" He almost growled.

Standing from the table, I moved over to the large map of Westeros with him looming over me. My finger hovered around the Riverlands until some part of me seized control and landed directly on a spot.

Tywin's breath seemed to even back out and he stormed over to his desk.

"Thank you..."

After scribbling something down, he offered me his arm and lead me out of the room.

* * *

On the way down through the Keep to the basement/catacombs, we walked in silence with a thick tension over us.

We stopped down on one extremely clean corridor, facing a statue and I could only look at in shock.

_This is the face I've seen everyday. A face I know every dip of, every line, every crease and every expression. A face I could never misplace... mine._

"I'm... on a horse?" That's right, it's me in real armour over the smooth stone sat upon a horse.

"That is unimportant. This is-" He pointed at the large cloth stretching along the wall.

"A scarf?"

"The banner of the Stormbringer; a relic of Westeros _,"_ Tywin informed me. "From her first appearance until her most recent... before you arrived of course. The last time the Stormbringer took action was during Robert's Rebellion." Tywin stepped forward, his eyes locked on the statue with a fond gaze.

"Who was I then?" I asked.

"...The same as you are now. You served as King Aerys' advisor until the year 281. You advised me to send his remaining son and pregnant wife away to the ancestral Targaryen fortress of Dragonstone."

"Why are you showing me this? Why are we here instead of anything relating to your son?"

"I can only continue my efforts to find him. You have aided those efforts in directing. Now I can have scouts search in that area specifically-"

"So-" I began.

"Do not interrupt me... You are here with me now to reflect on when you were there with _me_." Tywin's gaze settled back on me and it was soft. The kind of soft look that someone gaze when they trusted the other person completely, an intimate history shared between them and their close confidant.

Realising what that look meant, I found it hard to breathe.

"I...I need a minute. Please excuse me." Breaking away, I ran all the way back to my rooms, changed into the now cleaned gear of the Night's Watch and pictured the place cold enough to numb this feeling.

* * *

Before I had left, I had placed a bit of fabric down my trousers because of the other feeling which happened to be cramps. What I hadn't counted on was not going to Jon but the guy who thought incest was the best option. So I had to keep my head down and

"You have one son, don't you, Mormont? I had my 99th. You ever meet a man with 99 sons?" Craster asks. _Yes well at least he doesn't fuck his daughters._

Mormont shook his head indifferently.

"And more daughters than I can count."

 **"** I'm glad for you," Jeor replied.

 **"** Are you now? Me, I'll be glad when you and yours have gone."

"As soon as our wounded are strong enough," Jeor informed him.

"Ah. They're as strong as they're gonna get. Them that's dying, why don't you cut their throats and be done with it? Or leave them if you've not the stomach, and I'll sort them myself."

"Whose throat you gonna cut, old man?" The guy sat in front of me asked.

"Wait outside," Jeor ordered.

The guy decided to complain. "It's cold outside and there's nothing to eat."

"My wives gave you bread-"

"-There's sawdust in the bread," the guy whined once more.

"You don't like it, you go out there and eat the snow."

"I'd rather eat what you've got hidden away."

"I told you to wait outside!" Jeor shouted.

Someone else decided to speak up. "He's sitting there, drinking our wine, eating his fill while we die!"

"I gave you crows enough. I've got to feed my women!" Craster insisted.

"So you admit you've got a hidden larder, then? How else'd you make it through winter?"

"Enough! Out!" Jeor insisted.

"I am a godly man!"

"You're a stingy bastard!" Someone else shouted.

"Bastard?" Craster took an axe off the wall. "Out with you, you little thief! And you!" He began to point at everyone, glaring threatening. "And you! Go sleep in the cold on empty bellies. I'll chop the hands off the next man who calls me bastard."

"You are a bastard. A daughter-fucking, wildling bastard."

Craster charged at the guy who said it, but the guy shoved his dagger through Craster's jaw.

Jeor began, "The gods will curse us for this! By all the laws..."

"There are no laws beyond the Wall!" Douchebag instigator grabbed the woman he struck and puts his dagger at her throat. "Now show us where he hides the food, or you'll get the same as he did!"

Jeor drew his sword. "Unhand her!"

DI let go of the woman and faced Mormont with his dagger.

"I shall have your head for this-" Jeor was cut off by being literally stabbed in the back.

_Will not be telling Jorah this._

A brawl began to break out and I decided to leave.

Backing up, ignoring the escaping Sam and a woman with a crying bundle in her arms, I broke into a run the moment I got to the door, envisioning just reaching the treeline when I tripped.

* * *

Appearing in the woods, I had been grabbed and bagged with more efficiency than a trained paedophile. Plopped inside a cave next to Sandor who was also tied up, I was now watching him sneer and snarl.

"What are you doing, leading a mob of peasants?" Sandor asked.

"Ned Stark ordered me to execute your brother, in King Robert's name."

"Ned Stark is dead. King Robert is dead. My brother's alive." He spits on the ground. "You're fighting for ghosts."

"That's what we are: ghosts," Beric replied with a smirk. "Waiting for you in the dark. You can't see us, but we see you. No matter whose cloak you wear - Lannister, Stark, Baratheon - you prey on the weak, the Brotherhood Without Banners will hunt you down."

"You found god, is that it?"

"Aye. I've been reborn in the light of the one true god, as have we all. As would any man who's seen the things we've seen."

 **"** If you mean to murder me, then bloody well get on with it!" Sandor roared with a snarl.

"You'll die soon enough, dog. But it won't be murder. Only justice."

Budget Hawk-eye stepped in with his two cents, the same two cents he should have spent on a haircut or deodorant, "And a kinder fate than you deserve. Lions, you call yourselves? At the Mummer's Ford, girls of seven years were raped, and babes still on the breast were cut in two while their mothers watched!"

"I wasn't at the Mummer's Ford. Dump your dead children at some other door!"

"House Clegane was built upon dead children! I saw them lay Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys before the Iron Throne," Thoros stated.

"Do you take me for my brother?" Sandor accused. "Is being born Clegane a crime?"

"MURDER is a crime!"

"NO, REALLY?!"

"I never touched the Targaryen babes! I never saw them! Never smelled them, never heard them bawling! You want to cut my throat? Get on with it! But don't call me "murderer," and pretend that you're not."

Arya burst out, "You murdered Mycah! The butcher's boy. My friend. He was twelve years old. He was unarmed, and you rode him down. You slung him over your horse like he was some deer."

"Aye, he was a bleeder."

"Well you're certainly helping yourself, aren't you?" I commented from the floor.

"You don't deny killing this boy?" Beric confirmed.

"I was Joffrey's sworn shield. The boy attacked the prince."

"That's a lie! I hit Joffrey. Mycah just ran away and Lady was punished!" Arya accused.

"Then I should've killed YOU! Not my place to question princes."

"You stand accused of murder. Whilst you-" Beric points at me.

"Sorry what? On what charges?"

"Treason and aided murder. Under your rule as Aerys' advisor, you committed treason. You allowed the Lannisters into the city and for him to be murdered. But no one here knows the truth of the charges, so it is not for us to judge you. Only the Lord of Light may do that now. I sentence you to trial by combat," Beric declared.

"So, who will it be?" Leaning in close to Thoros, I can barely understand the whisper that leaves his lips before he turns to the archer. _"_ Or you, archer? What are you worth with a sword in your hand?" Nodding at Arya, he asks, "Or is the little girl the bravest one here?" Nodding at me he asks, "Or is your Stormbringer?"

"Aye, they might be... but it's me you'll fight-"

"Great well Sandor, for both of our lives, you better be good enough that I go bald from the shock."

* * *

The fire fuckers did their weird prayer, Sandor was cut free (during the prayer, someone had taken me to go grab a bit of fabric for my now bleeding gash before I went into toxic shock and died). So now I watched as it was beginning to end;

"- Show us the truth. Strike this man down if he is guilty. Give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom. For the night is dark and full of terrors."

The last part is echoed by the other men.

As Sandor twirls his sword, the now bless sword cuts into Beric's hand. He swipes the sword across it and it ignites with a flurry.

With a small stumble, Sandor almost steps onto me, now flopped on the floor.

Armed with shields, the two men begin the duel.

_Second trial by combat, let's hope it's still good entertainment._

Sandor launches at Beric with a roar, his hit deflected.

Despite the twirling sword on fire that almost lops his head off, Sandor dodges the hits at close range.

Finally deflecting it, Sandor takes a step back.

The moment of silence is filled with a heated look between Sandor and Beric, borderline sexual because of that smirk.

A swing and a miss marks the second half.

As Sandor dodges blows from the flaming sword, he backs himself up towards the wall, to the point I have to shuffle back and almost hit my head on the dick of Arya's tall and kind of rugged friend.

Ducking from a blow, Sandor made his way back to the middle as he deflected hits.

Barrels were kicked and the flames sparked off of the shield. Suddenly, Beric was kicked back.

Yet somehow, Sandor went sprawling to the floor in one hit.

Still on the floor, he deflected oncoming hits until he managed to pull himself up.

A minute later, Sandor fell to the floor once more, shield deflecting the hits, I felt rugged guy clutch my shoulder.

The shield burst into flames on contact after a hard blow.

Still, Sandor used it to drive Beric back so he could stand.

The fire fuckers began to chant as Sandor attempted to beat the flames off of his shield.

"KILL HIM!" Arya shrieked.

"DON'T KILL HIM!" _My life is on the line here._

Beric was shoved away and fell to his knees.

Suddenly, Sandor's sword came down into Beric's arm and the chants stopped.

With the sword still in what was left of his shoulder, Beric fell to the ground.

Thoros launched himself at the body as he began to hurriedly pray, "Lord, cast your light upon this man, your servant. Bring him back from death and darkness. His flame has been extinguished. Restore it."

Arya, seeing the chance, took a blade off of someone and ran at Sandor.

Before she could reach him, she was grabbed like a sack of potatoes and lifted away as she kicked and screamed.

Sandor simply laughed at her predicament, laid on his side. "Looks like the God likes me more than your butcher's boy."

"BURN IN HELL!"

"He will," Beric stated. Now sat up. "But not today."

"Oh, I have _got_ to learn that!"

* * *

Freed from my bindings, having been rejected being taught Satanic rituals for resurrection, Sandor and I stood before Beric to get our stuff back.

"I want my gold," Sandor rightly demanded.

"It says it clearly right there on that note-" Said note was held in Beric's hand. "-You'll be repaid in full when the war is over."

"Piss on that! You're nothing but thieves."

"We're outlaws. Outlaws steal," budget Hawk-eye inputted. "You're lucky we didn't kill you."

I snorted.

"Come try it, archer. I'll shove those arrows up your _ass!_ " Sandor threatened.

"You can't let _him_ go! He's a murderer. He's guilty!" Arya protested.

"Not in the eyes of god."

"You can't!" Arya protested once more.

"Enough! The judgement isn't ours to make." The swords are thrown to their respective owners; Sandor and I. "Go in peace, Stormbringer and Sandor Clegane. The Lord is not done with you yet."

Bags were placed over our heads and we were escorted out.

* * *

Dumped in buttfuck nowhere, I simply turned to Sandor and bid farewell; "Thank fuck for that. Now, I'm going to go see some cooler fire stuff."

* * *

"So... Not in Astapor any more, huh?" I asked Daenerys, sat at her side beside her horse which was currently eating the apple I had offered it when she had stopped next to (I had been looking at the desert in confusion as she had been by a slave decorated palace).

"No. My business is finished there. I freed the men and finally demonstrated the might of my dragons."

"...Excuse me?" I asked.

"Her grace means-" Missandei began in much better clothes than last time.

"YOU COULDN'T HAVE WAITED?!" I finally explode. After a deep breath, I elaborate, "I mean I know CGI is expensive but I just wanted to see a dragon breathe fire and do awesome stuff!"

"I can-"

"No. It's fine. The damage is done," I state. "You know what, have fun marching your armies... I'm going to go back to bed. Laters!"

* * *

Dressed for bed, clothes and sword stashed away, I settled down for the night.

As I began to settle down, the door creaked open.

Groggily, I began to address the figure, "Nym, I know we don't speak much but... what are you doing with that rope?"

"He knows. I saw _you_."

Suddenly, the rope was around my neck. Forced to my knees, I tugged on it but her grip on the thing wouldn't budge.

Black spots began to appear in my vision.

My breath was faltering... Then it wasn't.

Finally, I was able to breathe. Collapsing to the floor, I swallowed greedy mouthfuls in the fetal position. Rubbing my throat, I turned my gaze to the scuffle I hadn't noticed over the roar of blood in my ears.

Something flashed and Nym dropped.

Sera stood over the body of Nym that twitched until it laid as still as the blood pooling around her despite the spewing cut of her throat, sprayed in the red that I knew I was also painted in.

Something caught my eye as I gazed over Nym's sprawled form that wasn't drowned in her own plasma.

Lifting the edge of her skirt, I looked at the spiral design etched into the skin of her feet, eerily similar to the one I had been given in henna years ago.

Sera had crouched next to me, peering at the same thing as her eyes widened in realisation.

Taking her index finger, she dipped it in the blood and wrote three words on the floor I had been laid down upon seconds ago;

_Birds are foes._

With a wide grin that revealed Sera's absence of anything in her cavernous grin, she stood up.

Understanding dawned upon me and I watched in silence as Sera bundled up the sheets on the bed along with my nightgown, leaving me naked and afraid, and left.

_Birds are foes. Next time, I'll remember that. After all, a mockingbird can only get so far by themselves before it's wings are clipped._

_And snakes_ eat _birds._

* * *

Hours later, I was sat in a bath as if nothing had happened.

"Three letters for you my lady," Emma dropped them off before walking back out, mumbling something about 'lubricant should taste _and_ smell nice.'

"Would you read them for me please, Alis?"

She stilled scrubbing my hair. "I... I can't read, m'lady," Alis explained. "None of the servants can except Lorenah and... Nym."

I flinched at the name.

"Get Lorenah to teach you," I offered. "I have lessons elsewhere today and need you to distract her for me. Think you can do that?"

Alis became as silent as her sister as she nodded at me. Drying my hands off, Alis then passed me the most formal of the three which I began to read;

_A formal invitation for her ladyship Y/N of the house of Slytherin from her royal Highness, Queen Mother; Cersei Lannister, to a private lunch._

Rolling my eyes at the pretentiousness of it, I gestured for the next one.

The scroll with my wax seal still intact, which I promptly broke to read, was one I had written a few days ago.

_Dearest,_

_My time here grows short. Prepare the shipment of **lions.**_

_Nym had attacked me because she saw me with Tywin. This was the letter I had given her._

A scribbled note on a small piece of torn parchment simply read;

_Hurry up. Sword lesson._

_Bronn._

Rolling my eyes and knowing I would not sleep unless to pass out, I got dressed in a pair of trousers that had been sent up to me from the Nestys' and hurry down for my lesson.

* * *

"FUCK!" I flop to the ground, falling onto my hands and knees as I pant.

"Better but that's it for today. You comin' to see Lord Tyrion?"

I shook my head. "Got... Shit... To... Do."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bronn shrug but once again picked me up and began the long journey to the Red Keep."

* * *

Another bath later _(this is why we need plumbing and Mario),_ I had been dressed finely in a red and gold dress, studded with pearls and passed over to Cersei.

It was nice enough for a silent 'lunch' of grapes in liquid form until Cersei opened her mouth;

"As the advisor, surely you've heard that the little dove off to marry the Mountain."

"Gregor Clegane?" I asked for clarification.

"The one and only. How soon do you think it will take for her to end up like one of his other wives?" Cersei's taunting smirk made my stomach turn.

"Excuse me for a moment," I bid. Lifting my skirts I took off into a sprint to the tower of the Hand.

* * *

"Lord Tywin!" I called, slamming his study door open. "Please, tell me it's not true! Sansa can't marry Gregor Clegane. I won't have it!"

"You won't?" Tywin asked, arching his eyebrow.

"No, I won't," I stated sternly. At his lack of reaction, I hurried to his desk, gripping the wood, as I pleaded, "Please, Tywin reconsider this!"

"My mind has been set and nothing can-"

"-You're in debt to the Iron Bank of Braavos, correct?"

"...Where... _Tyrion,"_ he answered himself, his voice turning into a low rumble.

"Regardless of where I got the information, what matters is that your mines have been dry for at least a year. Now, the Lannisters, unlike Slytherin, are a noble house made of old money from the mines alone. You have no other real routes for gold and as such you are not really funding your own army, are you? Imagine what leverage Stannis Baratheon could gain from this... Or Robb Stark."

"I could have your head-"

"There's no point threatening me Tywin. I'm more valuable to you alive than dead." _That is the biggest crock of shit I've ever said._ "Marry me and my wealth shall help pay off your debt. Allow me to marry you and Sansa to marry someone else."

"And whom do you suggest? Who else is more loyal to House Lannister than Gregor-"

"Loras?"

"No."

 _I can't believe I'm saying this... I'm sorry Willas... I'm sorry._ "Tyrion. Marry Sansa to your son. Any heirs they have will the ability to rule the North and any... children of ours will take Casterly Rock away from him. Now, do we have a deal?"


	38. The Glory Of Bee Stings (Chapter 37)

Tywin had made the announcement of our engagement so I didn't have to. In doing so I had to respond to _all_ of the responses along with my other duties as head of a major company and advisor to the King.

In response, I had received wine, jewels and letters of congratulations. But there was a lack of response from members of my liege lords; House Tyrell.

Understandably.

So here I was writing the last 'response' to a letter or lack thereof;

_Willas,_

_Regardless of what you may hear or be told, I do care for you. A lot._

_But there are too many factors involved that aided my decision._

_I never meant to hurt you._

_I'm sorry._

~~_I lov_ ~~

~~~~_From,_

_Y/N_

Along with the letter, I placed a striped pink Carnation (Sorry I can't be with you & I'll never forget you). I almost added a red Chrysanthemum but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Then I set out to find someone to give it to.

* * *

In the gardens, Olenna sat surrounded by her grandchildren, excluding Willas, Garlan, Loras or Margaery. Before she could say anything, I began, "You got what you wanted, Lady Tyrell. You didn't want me to marry your grandson so I'm not going to." Pulling out the letter I had previously written along with the two flowers, I passed them over to her. "If you can find it in your heart to pass this on, I would be most grateful."

"And if I can't?"

I couldn't answer her. "Good day, my lady."

I left before I could really let it sink in and I simply focused on one need;

_I need a bath._

* * *

_This is not what I meant!_

But upon seeing that Brienne was also there, naked in the bath with a scruffy Jaime, I stripped and slid in next to her.

Ignoring my presence, Jaime advised, "If I faint, pull me out. I don't intend to be the first Lannister to die in a bathtub."

"Why should I care how you die?" Brienne asked.

"You swore a solemn vow, remember? You're supposed to get me to King's Landing in one piece." He nodded to his stump. "Not going so well, is it? No wonder Renly died with you guarding him. That was unworthy. Forgive me. You protected me better than most."

"Don't you mock me."

"I'm apologizing. I'm sick of fighting. Let's call a truce."

"You need trust to have a truce," Brienne pointed out.

"I trust you. There it is. There's the look. I've seen it for 17 years on face after face. You all despise me. Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, man without honour. You've heard of wildfire?"

"Of course."

"It won the battle of Blackwater," I informed him.

"The Mad King was obsessed with it. He loved to watch people burn, the way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off their bones. He burned lords he didn't like. He burned Hands who disobeyed him. He burned anyone who was against him. Before long, half the country was against him. Aerys saw traitors everywhere. So he had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city. Beneath the Sept of Baelor and the slums of Flea Bottom. Under houses, stables, taverns. Even beneath the Red Keep itself. Finally, the day of reckoning came. Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident. But my father arrived first with the whole Lannister army at his back, promising to defend the city against the rebels. I knew my father better than that. He's never been one to pick the losing side. I told the Mad King as much. I urged him to surrender peacefully. But the king didn't listen to me. He didn't listen to Varys who tried to warn him. But he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle, that grey, sunken cunt. "You can trust the Lannisters," he said. "The Lannisters have always been true friends of the crown." So we opened the gates and my father sacked the city. Once again, I came to the king, begging him to surrender. He told me to... bring him my father's head. Then he... turned to his pyromancer. 'Burn them all,' he said. 'Burn them in their homes. Burn them in their beds.' Tell me, if your precious Renly commanded you to kill your own father and stand by while thousands of men, women, and children burned alive, would you have done it? Would you have kept your oath then? First, I killed the pyromancer. And then when the king turned to flee, I drove my sword into his back. 'Burn them all,' he kept saying. 'Burn them all.' I don't think he expected to die. He, he meant to... burn with the rest of us and rise again, reborn as a dragon to turn his enemies to ash. I slit his throat to make sure that didn't happen. That's where Ned Stark found me."

"If this is true... why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell Lord Stark?" Brienne asked.

_Valid question. If he had admitted all of this, there never would have been the whole 'Kingslayer' thing._

Jaime just snorted. "Stark? You think the honorable Ned Stark wanted to hear my side? He judged me guilty the moment he set eyes on me. By what right does the wolf judge the lion? By what right? _"_

Suddenly, he collapsed into Brienne's arms.

"Help! Help! The Kingslayer!" Brienne began to shout for the guards.

Drowsily, Jaime stated, "Jaime. My name is Jaime."

Knowing Jaime was probably going to be safer with the goddess of war than people rioting over another naked woman, I focused on where it would be warm enough to dry off almost instantly.

* * *

At Daenerys' side, with only a cloak draped over me and a pair of ill-fitting boots over my feet, I journeyed with Daenerys, Jorah and the leader of the Unsullied called Grey Worm, far... a few metres from a horse, to the edge of a sand cliff to gaze over a golden city.

"Yunkai; the yellow city," Jorah informed us as we looked at it.

"They're probably not soldiers judging by the walls. With the amount of soldiers you have, if you really wanted you could take them on in a fight on the field-"

"But they won't meet us on the field," Jorah stated. "They have provisions and strong walls. If they're wise they'll hide behind those walls and chip away at us - man by man."

"I don't want half my army killed before I cross the Narrow Sea."

"You don't need Yunkai, Khaleesi," Jorah attempted to persuade her. "Taking this city will not bring you any closer to Westeros or the Iron Throne. "

"For once Jorah's got a point."

"Ser Jorah, how many slaves are there in Yunkai?" Daenerys inquired.

"200,000," he answered.

"Then we have 200,000 reasons to take the city." Turning to Grey-Worm she ordered something in Valyrian.

_I swear to fuck if I miss out on the dragons again I'm going to be pissed off._

* * *

Now dressed up in a blue gown, I sat on the same sofa Daenerys was sat upon, away from her two dragons and nearer Jorah with a small dagger attached to my leg as extra protection.

With her white gown and small sprouts of silver hair, she reflected the sun as if she was a mirror used by a woman in a film on a tanning bed.

Drumming grew louder, announcing the approach of the Yunkai leader and I straightened up in my seat, a hand on the dagger and moving closer to the edge of the sofa to avoid looking like Daenerys' whatever.

In a litter dressed in a gold and blue dress robe was another bald man carried by slaves.

Missandei received him at the front of the tent, walking him inside the tent as she announced, "Now comes the noble Razdal mo Eraz of that ancient and honourable house, Master of Men and Speaker to Savages, to offer terms of peace.  
Noble lord, you are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons. And her advisor; Y/N of House Slytherin, Se Chosen mēre and First Lady of Qarth."

"You may approach," Daenerys bid. When he did, she ordered, "Sit."

A servant approached with a stool which he sat down upon.

Missandei approached. "Will the noble lord take refreshment?"

He nodded and took the offered wine before turning to Daenerys. "Ancient and glorious is Yunkai. Our empire was old before dragons stirred in old Valyria. Many an army has broken against our walls. You shall find no easy conquest here, Khaleesi."

Daenerys and I shared a look before she smirked at him. "Good. My Unsullied need practice. I was told to blood them early."

"If blood is your desire, blood shall flow. But why? ‘Tis true you have committed savageries in Astapor, but the Yunkai are a forgiving and generous people. The wise masters of Yunkai have sent a gift for the Silver Queen." Four slaves, two for each box, come forward. Opening the boxes to reveal gold, they back away bowing. "There is far more than this awaiting you on the deck of your ship."

" _My_ ship?"

"Yes, Khaleesi. As I said, we are a generous people. You shall have as many ships as you require.

"And what do you ask in return?" I inquired.

"All we ask is that you make use of these ships. Sail them back to Westeros where you belong, and leave us to conduct our affairs in peace."

"I have a gift for you as well..." Daenerys began. "Your life-"

"My life?" Razdal asks.

"-And the lives of your wise Masters, but I also want something in return. You will release every slave in Yunkai. Every man, woman, and child shall be given as much food, clothing, and property as they can carry as payment for their years of servitude. Reject this gift and I shall show you no mercy."

"You are mad. We are not Astapor or Qarth. We are Yunkai and we have powerful friends; friends who would take great pleasure in destroying you. Those who survive, we shall enslave once more. Perhaps we'll make a slave of you as well! And your consort!"

Razdal stands. One of the dragons menaces him. "You swore me safe conduct."

"I did, but my dragons made no promises. And you threatened their mother."

"Take the gold!" He ordered.

Unfortunately, dragons exist. Even the threat of being whipped is not enough to urge slaves to risk it.

"My gold. You gave it to me, remember? And I shall put it to good use. You'd be wise to do the same with my gift to you. Now get out."

He did and when he was in his litter, Daenerys turned to me and simply raised an eyebrow.

As her advisor I simply suggested, "Freeing slaves is good but so is murder."

Then I stood and left for King's Landing.

* * *

_Should have stayed in Yunkai._

No sooner than I had arrived, I had been swept into lessons by Lorenah and only given an escape by Tywin's invitation to join him.

I should have know it was a trap when Cersei joined us in the Tower of the Hand's small council chamber, taking the seat opposite me next to her father.

So we all waited in silence, Tywin glaring at the door as I stared and daydreamed.

_Jon Snow... Any hotter and he would make it melt..._

* * *

Footsteps dragged me out of my daydream involving lots of gold and Viserys... and Draco Malfoy... and Lucius.

"You're late."

"What's _she_ doing here?" Tyrion asked, glaring at his sister whilst I almost sunk into my chair.

"Our business concerns both of them as well. Sit."

Complying and sitting at the end, "You'll be pleased to learn that after one conversation with Olenna Tyrell, I've saved the Crown hundreds of thousands on this wedding-"

"Never mind that now," Tywin interrupted. "We have something important to discuss."

"I'm Master of Coin, saving money _is_ important _."_ Catching Cersei's Grinch grin, he snarled, "Stop that. You're making me uncomfortable."

"Enough. You both have heard of my betrothal to Lady Slytherin but that is not why you are here. Your sister has learned that your new friends the Tyrells are plotting to marry Sansa Stark to Sir Loras."

"Very well. She's a lovely girl. Missing some of Loras' favourite bits, but I'm sure they'll make do," Tyrion snidely commented.

"Your jokes are not appreciated."

Tyrion shared a look with me which he smirked at, knowing otherwise. Innocently she shrugged it off. "It wasn't my best, but..."

"I bring them into the royal fold and this is how they repay me, by trying to steal the key to the North out from under me," Tywin grumbled.

"Sansa is the key to the North? I seem to remember she has an older brother."

_Same._

"The Karstarks have marched home. The Young Wolf has lost half his army. His days are numbered. Theon Greyjoy murdered both his brothers." _Oh if only you knew._ "That makes Sansa Stark the heir to Winterfell. And I am not about to hand her over to the Tyrells."

"The Tyrell army is helping us to win this war. Do you really think it's wise to refuse them?" Tyrion asked.

"There's nothing to refuse. This is a plot. Plots are not public knowledge. And the Tyrells won't carry this one out until after Joffrey's wedding. We need to act first and kill this union in its crib."

"And how do we do that?" Tyrion asked.

"We find Sansa Stark a different husband," Tywin replied.

"Wonderful."

"Yes, it is," Cersei commented, her Grinch grin growing to Joker length.

Tyrion stares at me, then his sister in shock and then turns to his father, who nods.

"You can't mean it."

"I can and I do."

"Joffrey has made this poor girl's life miserable since the day he took her father's head. Now she's finally free of him and you give her to me? That's cruel, even for you," Tyrion accused.

"Do you intend on mistreating her? The girl's happiness is not my concern, nor should it be yours."

I glowered at him.

With an exhale, Tywin relented. "However, my betrothed wishes you to treat her well and so you shall."

"She's a _child!"_ Tyrion protested.

"She's flowered, I assure you. Y/N bore witness to it and she and I have discussed it at length."

Tywin turned back to Tyrion expectantly. "There, you see? You will wed her, bed her, and put a child in her. Surely you're capable of _that."_

"And if I refuse?"

"You wanted to be rewarded for your valour in battle. Sansa Stark is a finer reward than you could ever dare hope for. And it is past time you were wed."

Gravely, Tyrion almost growled. "I _was_ wed! Or don't you remember?"

_I am a horrible, horrible friend._

"Only too well."

"You should be thanking the gods for this. This is more than you deserve," Cersei taunted.

"Tyrion will do as he's bid... As will you."

Cersei's head whipped around so hard it was as if she had been slapped. Her facial expression had a similar reaction. "What do you mean?"

"You'll marry Ser Loras," Tywin elaborated his order.

"I will not."

"The boy is the spare to Highgarden after his cripple brother. Tyrion will secure the North, you will secure the Reach."

"No, I won't do it." Cersei squirmed in her seat, avoiding anyone's gaze.

"Yes, you will. You're still fertile. You need to marry again and breed."

"I am Queen Regent, not some broodmare!" Cersei protested.

"YOU'RE MY DAUGHTER!" Tywin roared, making me flinch. "You will do as I command and you will marry Loras Tyrell and put an end to the disgusting rumours about you once and for all!"

I almost felt sorry for Cersei as she begged, on the verge of tears, "Father, don't make me do it again, please."

"Not another word. My children." His scowl could rival Snape. "You've disgraced the Lannister name for far too long." Wordlessly he offered me his arm and escorted me from the room.


	39. Destiny's Child (Chapter 38)

Tywin had invited me to his study along with Olenna only for me to watch them discuss the prospect of Loras marrying Cersei to which Olenna had simply declared, "Impossible."

"Inconceivable," I corrected.

"Why?" Tywin asked.

"My grandson is the _pride_ of Highgarden, the most desirable bachelor in the whole Seven Kingdoms! Your daughter-"

"-Is rich, the most beautiful woman in the whole Seven Kingdoms, and the mother of the king-"

"Old," I offered.

"Old?"

" _Old_ ," Olenna repeated. "I'm something of an expert on the subject. Her change will be upon her before long. I'll spare you the details of what will happen then. You men may have a stomach for bloodshed and slaughter, but this is another matter entirely."

"Oh, the years punish us as well, I promise you that. My stomach remains quite strong, however. The only thing that might turn it are details of your grandson's... nocturnal activities. Do you deny them?"

"Oh, not at all! A sword-swallower, through and through," Olenna admitted.

"Well, a boy with his affliction should be grateful for the opportunity to marry the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, and remove the stain from his name."

"Did you grow up with boy cousins, Lord Tywin?" Olenna inquired. "Sons of your father's bannermen, squires, stable-boys?"

"Of course..." Tywin answered, slight hesitation in his tone.

"And you... never..."

_THANK YOU LORD FOR MAKING ME A FLY ON THE WALL FOR THIS!_

"No," Tywin stated as stone-faced as a tombstone.

"Not once? Not in any way?" I asked.

"Never."

Olenna smirked at how triggered she had made him. "I congratulate you on your restraint! But, it's a natural enough thing, two boys having a go at each other beneath the sheets."

"Perhaps Highgarden has a high tolerance for unnatural behaviour," Tywin suggested.

"I wouldn't say that," Olenna began. "True, we don't tie ourselves into knots over a discreet bit of buggery, but... brothers and sisters... where I come from, that stain would be very difficult to wash out."

"I will not breathe further life into a malicious lie by discussing it."

"Lie or not, you must admit that many people find it quite convincing. Convincing enough to put swords in their hands and send them off to kill Lannisters, Tyrells and even Slytherins, thanks to our new affiliations."

"I don't care what people believe, neither does my betrothed and neither do you," Tywin stated.

"As an authority on myself, I must disagree!"

"Now, if the rumours about my children were true, then Joffrey is no King at all and House Tyrell is throwing it's prize flower into the dirt."

"And if Cersei is too old to give Loras children, we are throwing another 'prize flower' into the dirt. It is a chance we simply cannot take!" Olenna professed.

"The uncertainty makes you uncomfortable?" Tywin asked, looking over to me for a second. "All right, I'll remove it for you. If you refuse to marry Loras to Cersei, I will name him to the Kingsguard. And, I'm sure you're familiar with the Kingsguard's vows. He will never marry, he will never have children, the Tyrell name will fade and Highgarden will go to the children of Joffrey and Margaery or your grandson, _Willas."_

I flinched at the bitterness in his voice.

"You would have your grandson protected by someone who disgusts you?"

"I would have my grandson protected by a skilled warrior who takes his vows seriously. So shall I draw up the order or do you consent to this match?" I passed Tywin a quill and placed it in his outstretched hand which he turned to his ink pot.

"It's a rare enough thing- a man who lives up to his reputation. _"_ Olenna plucked the quill from Tywin's fingers and snapped it in half.

* * *

As they finalised the details, I excused myself and decided a stroll by myself through the gardens.

Emma had decided to join me, spotting me leaving the Tower of the Hand. After discussing how well we were doing money-wise (I am rolling in it!), she had decided to natter on about the preparations for a marriage of convenience.

Across the garden, I spotted the familiar flash of red hair now in Margaery's style and headed towards her... only to stop in my tracks.

Arm in arm, Sansa walked with Loras on one side and...

"Willas..." I could only whisper, my voice not allowing me any volume to call out to him.

_How could I, after all I've done? It's like I've played him for a fool._

Somehow, he heard me and his head slowly turned and locked onto me with a hawk-like gaze, colder than the warmth of the Reach's gardens, before turned away once more.

"My lady..." A handkerchief was pressed into my hand and instead of using it to dab at my face, I passed it back and excused myself before turning back to the castle and walking back on my own.

* * *

One wardrobe change later into the thickest furs I had, sword at my side, I focused on the cold feeling spreading and wished for the weather to reflect it.

_North it is!_

As soon as I had arrived, too forest-y to see exactly where I was and play the 'Where the Wildlings Are' game I had just now invented, I just found the large figure of Tormund and stood by him.

"Used to be you couldn’t find a tree within a mile of the Wall. Crows would come out every morning with axes."

"Your flock gets smaller every year," the Warg commented.

A pair of boots were thrown at me and I sat down next to Ygritte and Jon who were discussing something whilst I shoved my feet hurriedly into the new boots.

"...Aye. Well, it’s a long way up and a long way down. But I’ve waited my whole life to see the world from up there... Here, sit down. I brought a pair for you. They’re too big for you, but they’re good."

"You kill someone for them?" Jon inquired.

"Nah. I didn’t kill him, but I bet his balls are still bruised. He wasn’t good to me the way you’re good to me. Well, he didn’t do that thing you do with your tongue."

"Can we not talk about that here?"

“Can we not talk about that here?" I mocked in a Northern accent.

Ygritte grinned at me before doing the accent, further mocking him, “I’m Jon Snow. I’ve killed dead men and Qhorin Halfhand but I’m scared of naked girls-"

”Did I seem scared the other day?" Jon asked in a whisper.

"Probably." I shrugged at his pointed look.

"You were trembling like a leaf. Only in the beginning," Ygritte supposedly complimented.

_What's next? Telling him that despite his small dick, you enjoyed the short time you spent together?_

"Huh. Only in the beginning," I muttered.

"You’re a proper lover, Jon Snow... And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me."

"What secret?"

I stilled in fiddling with the boots, slowly standing and reaching for the sword at my waist.

"Do you think I’m as dumb as all those girls in silk dresses you knew growing up? You’re loyal and you’re brave. You didn’t stop being a crow the day you walked into Mance Rayder’s tent." Ygritte's gaze was intense as she demanded, "But I’m your woman now, Jon Snow. You’re going to be loyal to your woman. The Night’s Watch don’t care if you live or die. Mance Rayder don’t care if I live or die. We’re just soldiers and there’s more to carry on if we go down. It’s you and me that matters to me and you. Don’t ever betray me."

"I won’t."

"‘Cause I’ll cut your pretty cock right off and wear it ’round me neck."

Tormund came back, stomping through the snow and offered a hook to Jon who took it to stand up with, placing the hook onto his own chest as he advised, "Sink your metal deep and make sure it holds before taking your next step... and if you fall, don’t scream. You don’t want that to be the last thing she remembers." Tormund clapped Jon on the arms a couple of times before grabbing my arm and dragging me to Orell and his pile of rope.

"Charming."

* * *

A rope had been tied around my waist, tying me behind Tormund and pickaxes were given to me.

"Now we climb!" Tormund declared drawing cheers from the group.

"I'm doing what now?"

* * *

_If I look down, I'm looking at the void below which I could easily fall into and snap my neck and if I look up I'm faced with Tormund's ass._

Suddenly, a piece of ice broke off from the wall above me.

"Look out!" I called down in warning, having Tormund swing me with the rope out of the way of the falling ice.

Luckily, he was saved by the rope system.

"You all right?!"

"Just seeing if you can take a hit, lad," Tormund called down.

Then once more we began to climb to the chorus of Tormund's laughter.

* * *

_My arms are spaghetti holding onto forks. What cruel irony is this?_

With the wind ushing at me, it was hard to keep a grip on the pickaxes or feel my breath with how tight my safety rope was. Perhaps it's just because the air is getting thinner the higher we get but I'm starting to feel like I've downed twelve shots of Vodka and someone's ordered Jaeger.

**CRACK**

The ice had begun to splinter.

_What was that? Perhaps it is due to the pressure and damage to the surface area we are doing..._

But on the outside, I could only watch in horror as others were sent tumbling to their deaths.

Bracing myself, back against the wall, I could only hold on for dear life as the rope strained under Jon and Ygritte's slipping from place and dangling suspended only by the rope.

"WE GOTTA CUT THEM LOOSE!" Orell shouted up to Tormund.

"I'LL CUT YOUR DICK LOOSE IF YOU DON'T FUCK OFF!"

Despite Tormund's best efforts to solidify his position and heave everyone up, Orell's blade was out and glinting in the bare light available.

"JON!" I screamed into the abyss below which I couldn't see, only hearing their screams. "ORELL YOU FICKLE FUCK! WHEN WE REACH THE TOP I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

* * *

When we reached the top, the first thing I did was collapse and pant for breath.

The second thing I did after catching my breath and sending up a quick prayer was to launch myself at Orell. I was stopped by Tormund lifting me up and plopping by the rope in front of him, having me heave the rest of it up whilst Orell did something else.

Despite all this, I almost let the rope go when I saw Jon and Ygritte pull up besides us.

Yet something stopped me.

I didn't approach when Jon offered Ygritte a hand to help herself up. I didn't approach when she took it and stood. I didn't approach when John and her embraced, curling into each other.

As their passionate kiss greets the burning sky that turns Jon's curls into a cascade of the night sky and Ygritte's Merida mane into liquid fire, I can feel something inside of me twist and turn.

_Not acid reflex but something that's probably so small and rotten I could finally become the Grinch._

Tormund places a surprisingly gentle hand on my shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts, and turns me away to join the rest of the group away from the loving couple.

That night, I barely spoke and instead sat at Tormund's side and allowed him to converse for the two of us until I fell into a pitiful sleep facing the bleakness beyond.

* * *

_I'm not even risking Viserys today._

Instead I allowed myself to be dressed in a white low-cut strappy gown whilst Daenerys wore blue and I returned to her side.

"Your Grace, Se Chosen mēre, allow me to present the Captains of the Second Sons: Mero of Braavos, Prendahl Na Ghezn, and..."

"Daario Naharis."

With the proof of actual CG dragons before him, Mero chose me as a target. _"You're_  the Chosen One? I swear I fucked you once, in a pleasure house in Lys." He plopped himself down on the other side of Daenerys, talking over her.

I could only smirk. "Funny so do I. I do hope I got my money back - you weren't up to my standards."

His grin slips but it slips back on when he gestures to Missandei as he orders, "You, slave girl. Bring wine."

"We have no slaves here."

"You'll all be slaves after the battle, unless I save you. Take your clothes off, and come and sit on Mero's lap, and I may give you my Second Sons."

"Give me your Second Sons, and I may not have you gelded. Ser Jorah, how many men fight for the Second Sons?"

"Under two thousand, Khaleesi."

"We have more, don't we?" I asked.

"Ten thousand Unsullied," he answered.

Daenerys' smirk widened as she innocently began, "I'm only a young girl, new to the ways of war, but perhaps a seasoned Captain like yourself can explain to me how you propose to defeat us?"

"I hope the old man is better with a sword than he is with a lie. You have eight thousand Unsullied."

"You're very young, to be a Captain," Daenerys pointed out.

"He isn't a Captain; he's a lieutenant," the other one stated.

_Oh God, it's Destiny's child in the flesh. But which one's Beyoncé?_

"Even if your numbers are right, you must admit the odds don't favour your side," I stated.

"The Second Sons have faced worse odds and won."

"The Second Sons have faced worse odds and run." I could only smirk with Jorah. He's growing on me, like a rash.

"Or, you could fight for me," Daenerys offered.

"We've taken the slavers' gold. We fight for Yunkai."

"I would pay you as much, and more," Daenerys offered further.

 "Our contract is our bond," the other one stated. "If we break our bond, no one will hire the Second Sons again."

"Ride with me, and you'll never need another contract. You'll have gold and castles and lordships of your choosing, when I take back the Seven Kingdoms."

"You have no ships, you have no siege weapons. You have no cavalry," Daario summarised. _If he's Beyoncé, that means the other two are going to be out of careers soon._

"A fortnight ago, I had no army. A year ago, I had no dragons. You have two days to decide."

"Show me your cunt. I want to see if it's worth fighting for."

Grey Worm drew his sword, saying something that was probably bad-ass.

Daenerys simply smiled, replying in Valyrian. Turning back to Kelly's counterpart, she smiled. "You seem to be enjoying my wine. Perhaps you'd like a flagon to help you think it over?"

"Only a flagon? And what are my brothers-in-arms to drink?"

"A barrel, then?" I offer.

 _"Good!_ The Titan's Bastard does not drink alone. In the Second Sons, we share everything. Maybe after the battle, we'll all share you and your consort." _Why does everyone assume that?_ Mero stands up and begins to leave, standing by Missandei. "I'll come looking for you when this is all over." He slaps Missandei on the butt as he walks out with the other two.

"When it comes to battle, Ser Jorah, kill that one first."

"Gladly, Khaleesi."

* * *

"Bath time is the best time~"

After the stress, the heartbreak, the advising and overall exercise, I had been rewarded with a bath at night filled with my products that had been shipped over seas such as bubble bath and pumice rocks with a hole and a string through them. In my hand I held a goblet of wine from Qarth that Jhiqui was fetching another bottle of.

_Ah, when will materialism not make me feel better? Except when it's not and I'm in the mood to drink until I drown..._

A small rustle came from the outside of the tent before Jhiqui came back in with an armoured man at her back.

"Don’t scream, lovely girl." _Yeah, she can't because you've got a hand clamped over her mouth and a sword at her throat._

When Jhiqui nodded, he let her go to which she scampered off leaving me with military Beyoncé who's long hair did a little flick as he took off his helmet.

"Not to be rude, Donatello but I think you've got the wrong tent. If you're here for Daenerys, seduction or murder I honestly don't care right now, she's a few tents down."

"I'm not here for her."

"Okay... Well, you've obviously come here for a purpose... presumably to kill me. So why haven’t you?"

"I don’t want to."

I quirked an eyebrow and drained the last of my wine before placing the goblet on the floor and crossing my arms over my chest. "What do your captains have to say about that?"

"You should ask them." Then he tipped out the contents of the bag I had not seen he was holding onto the floor.

"OH HOLY SHIT!" I shot up in the bath, almost falling out to get away from the heads on the floor.

Shakily, I get out and wrap myself in the robe before turning to him with a glare. "Well _done_. You've ruined the one thing I enjoy in this hellish land so if you don't mind taking your creepy fucking tributes, fucking off to get a better hair cut or maybe just fuck off in general, I can try to salvage my happy place.... I mean, why the fuck would you do this?"

"We had philosophical differences," he replied.

"Over what?!"

"Your beauty. It meant more to me than it did to them."

"Cool motive. Still murder... You're a weird fucker."

"I’m the simplest man you’ll ever meet. I only do what I want to do."

"And this is meant to do what? Intimidate me or impress me?"

"Yes."

 _Helpful._ "Why would I trust a man who murders his comrades?"

"They ordered me to murder you. I told them I preferred not to. They told me I had no choice. I told them I am Daario Naharis. I always have a choice. They drew their swords and I drew mine."

"Ok... So you want to do what? Pledge allegiance to me? Well you can prove it... No not with your sword dick-weed. Come with me... and pick those heads up."

* * *

A few tents down... one tent down actually, Daenerys' bath had been uninterrupted and her bathtub now held the heads that had been scooped up off of the floor whilst she sat upon the edge

Impressed with the heads, Daenerys turned to Daario. "Will you fight for me? Swear to me."

He fell to one knee, his sword in front of him. "The Second Sons are yours," he swore to Daenerys. Turning to me, he bid, "And Daario Naharis is yours. My sword is yours. My life is yours. My heart is yours."

_I came here to have a good time and I'm feeling so attacked right now._


	40. Bitter Like Tequila (Chapter 39)

The days were already beginning to reach a routine as I knew the wedding would come closer and with it being tied to that person almost literally.

"Maester, is there anything that could make a person ill like almost catatonic but only for a short time?" I asked Pycelle towards the end of our lesson where I had learnt how to dress wounds.

"Why do you ask, my lady?"

"I have a friend who is so stubborn but refuses to... see reason," I admitted. "This friend... You work for House Lannister, correct?"

"Of course-"

"Then please help me. For the sake of House Lannister."

_This is why I'm a Slytherin._

* * *

A skip in my step from tricking old people, (...okay, that came out wrong) I took up an invitation from Margaery to join her for lunch, bringing the gift for Tyrion with me that I had received from a trader this morning.

As it turns out, lunch involved Olenna and Sansa who promptly burst into tears before I could ask for dessert.

"I’m stupid. A stupid little girl with stupid dreams who never learns."

"Come on. Come walk with me," Margaery offered and took the scarlet haired girl by the shoulders and began their stroll.

As they retreated, Olenna turned to me. "I can not begin-"

"What I did to Willas, I can never truly apologise for. Hopefully one day when I've finally accomplished whatever I'm here to do, I will be gone and you can get on with your lives. Better yet, I'll be dead!" Picking up the bottle of wine, and a handful of grapes, I stormed off.

As I hurried through the gardens, I stopped in the aisle when I heard Margaery speak. "I remember the first time I saw you in the throne room. I’d never seen anyone who looked so unhappy. I want very much for you to be happy, Sansa, and so does my grandmother _." Yeah fucking right._ "You would have been happy at Highgarden, but women in our position must make the best of our circumstances."

"How do I make the best of my circumstances? ...I have to marry him."

"Has Lord Tyrion mistreated you?"

"No," Sansa replied.

"Has he been kind to you?" Margaery asked.

"...He’s tried," Sansa answered hesitantly.

"You don’t want him, though."

"He’s a Lannister," Sansa protested.

"Far from the worst Lannister, wouldn’t you say?"

"I’m sorry. Here I am complaining to you…"

"My son will be king. Sons learn from their mothers. I plan to teach mine a great deal. And your son, if I’m not mistaken, your son might be the Lord of the North someday _."_

_"And Casterly Rock?"_

Already deciding that I've heard enough, I left well enough alone and decided to find Tyrion to give him his wedding gift.

* * *

"She’s a child," Tyrion protested. Apparently, Bronn had decided he needed my help to convince Tyrion everything was fine as partial repayment for the sword lessons.

"She’s a foot taller than you," I pointed out, taking another sip of wine.

"A tall child."

"What’s the youngest you’ve ever had?" Bronn inquired.

"Not that young."

"How much older?" I insistently asked.

"Older," Tyrion insisted.

"You’re a lord, she’s a lady and a beauty, at that. I don’t see the problem."

"Shae isn’t going to like it."

"Shae is a whore. Are you gonna marry her, eh? How did marrying a whore work out for you the first time?"

Tyrion flinched. "I should never have told you about that."  
"You want Shae, keep her. Wed one and bed the other. All you have to do is get a son in the Stark girl."

"He’ll be Lord of Winterfell one day. You can rule the North in his name.

"You’ll have two women and a whole kingdom of your own."

Two women to despise me and a whole kingdom to join them.

"You waste time trying to get people to love you, you’ll end up the most popular dead man in town. You want to fuck that Stark girl." I choked on my wine. "You just don’t want to admit it."

"I don’t pay you to put evil notions in my head. The ones already there don’t need company."

"You pay me to kill people who bother you and you don't pay her at all. Evil notions come free."

Draining my goblet, I stood and bid farewell, not in the mood to hear anything about fucking a fourteen year old. Before I left, I withdrew the package I had brought with me and gave it to Tyrion.

"A wedding gift."

"Not wine?"

"You'll get enough at your wedding. Use _that_  on your father if you want."

_From one brother, I must go find the other._

* * *

"Well, this is one shameful fucking performance. Stop running and fight!" The guy who had taken Jaime's hand called down into the pit below as I approached with Jaime and the ex-maester Qyburn, along with Steelshanks, a bodyguard. The latter two I had just been briefly introduced to as we

"A wooden sword?" Jaime asked, staring down into the pit.

"Thought you'd gone."

I looked down and gasped in horror as I saw the pink dress Brienne was wearing... and there was the bear backing Brienne into a corner.

"You gave her a wooden sword!" I complained. "Get her out of there or kill it!"

"I've only got one bear."

"I'll pay her bloody ransom. Gold, sapphires, whatever you want. Just get her out of there!" Jaime demanded.

Hand remover snorted. "All you Lords and Ladies. You still think that the only thing that matters is gold." Hand remover grabbed the stump of Jaime's wrist. "Well,  _this_  makes me happier than all your gold ever could. And that-" He pointed at Brienne's predicament. "Makes me happier than all her sapphires. So go buy yourself a golden hand and fuck yourself with it!"

Jaime climbed the rail and leaps into the pit, trying to draw the bear off Brienne.

"Get behind me," Jaime orders.

"I will not," Brienne protested, broken sword in hand yet she still attempted to keep him behind her.

_Fucking goddess._

Suddenly, a crossbow bolt hits the bear in the shoulder fired by the man stood next to me.

"The'FUCK you doin' to my bear?"

"Lord Bolton charged me with bringin' him back to King's Landing, alive! An' that's what I intend to do!"

"Pull her up!" One of the men help me pull her up - they're doing all the work. The bear starts to advance on Jaime.

"Hold my legs!" Jaime manages to take Brienne's hand] "Pull me back!" Finally we manage to bring them both up.

"The big bitch stays," the hand remover insisted.

"I'm taking her to King's Landing, unless you kill me," Jaime threatened.

I'm ready to back him up as I stand before Brienne.

"She belongs to _me._ Lord Bolton's orders."

"What do you think is more important to Lord Bolton? Getting his pet rat a reward or ensuring that Tywin Lannister gets his son back alive? Well, we must be on our way." He brushes past the fucker before turning back with a smirk. "Sorry about the sapphires."

* * *

After retreating a safe distance and making sure Brienne's wounds would be taken care of, I turned to Braime (they are now my ship. Incest is not wincest) and bid, "I will leave you two in each others capable hands... hand. Grip? Nevermind... Bye!"

Then I fucked off... Tried to anyway. Wherever I thought I would be going was given a different route and it felt like an egg had been smacked onto my head and instead of the cooling chill down my spine the egg was actually filled with thumb tacks.

* * *

"Viserys?" I asked upon seeing the meal laid out on the table with him sprawled in his seat

"You seem... sober."

"And you are as radiant as ever. Please, sit."

"Thank you for the dagger by the way. The recipient will be very grateful for it," I began as I complied, sitting in the seat on his right.

Before I could eat anything, having been given half a pomegranate, Viserys inquired, "May I ask who it was for?

Despite it being a non-negotiable question, I refused to answer.

"Now for the subject of payment~" Viserys light grip on my chin brought my face closer to his.

"I'm getting married!" I blurted out.

"What?" A snarl formed on his face, fire in his eyes as he tightly gripped my jaw.

"It's not that I want to it's that I need to but even then I can't deny-"

"Who?"

"What are you an owl?"

I managed to wrench my jaw out of his grasp and could only watch as he clawed at his own hair sending the make-shift crown of jewels flying across the room as he seemed to explode.

"WHO IS IT?"

I didn't answer him, instead getting up and running out of the room.

As his footsteps echoed hauntingly after me, I turned through the unfamiliar winding corridors until I slammed into a wall and felt the world disappear under me.

* * *

Bloody nose now tended to, I stood over the map of Yunkai with Daario leaning over my shoulder, his breath cool against my neck.

"Where?" Daenerys asked.

"There." Daario had to slink his arm past my hip to point out a back gate of the city. "It's a back gate. My men use it when they visit Yunkai's bed slaves."

"Your men, but not you?" Daenerys asked.

"I have no interest in slaves," Daario stated as his fingertips ghosted my hip as he withdrew his arm. "A man cannot make love to property."

Jorah coughed to catch Daenerys' attention away from his 'rival'. "This is where we enter the city?"

"Very few guards. They know me. They let me inside-"

I scoffed. "You're not gonna be able to sneak an entire army through there."

"-I kill the guards. I take your two best men and lead them through the back streets, which I know well, and open the gates. Then comes the army. Once the walls are breached, the city will fall in hours."

"Or perhaps you’ll lead Grey Worm and me to the slaughter, cutting the head off our army. The masters of Yunkai will pay you your fee and you won’t have to split it three ways ’cause you’ve already slaughtered your partners."

_For fuck's sake Jorah._

"You have a very suspicious mind," Daario pointed out. "In my experience, only dishonest people think this way."

"You command the Unsullied," Jorah began as he turned to Grey Worm. "What do you think?"

Daenerys asked something softly in Valyrian to which she seemed to receive affirmation.

"You leave tonight," Daenerys informed Jorah.

"Very good. We'll prepare."

"So... Daenerys, mind lending me a sword?" I asked.

"You fight?" Daario asked.

"Y/N, I need you here."

"Okay but what are we doing instead?"

* * *

Twenty games of Cyvasse, a couple of wine goblets, some Valyrian and Dothraki lessons and a round of songs (including such hits as; Rains of Castamere, YMCA, an entire musical soundtrack, Bohemian Rhapsody, 'The Queen Took Off Her Sandal, the King Took Off His Crown', Let Me Drink Your Beauty and CupcakKe's Deepthroat) later, we were still waiting.

"How long does it take to sack a city?" Daenerys finally asked me, pausing to take a sip of the water offered to her.

I shrugged and checked under my nails again.

_Maybe I should just have a nap..._

"It was just as you said. They did not believe until it was too late. Their slave soldiers threw down their spears and surrendered."

"...and Daario Naharis?"

Jorah looked crestfallen.

Suddenly, someone with fabulous long hair and blood on their face yet not a big disgrace entered the tent. Falling to his knee, Daario presented Daenerys with the flag of Yunkai.

"The city is yours, my queen."

_Then we were allowed to go to bed. Thank. Fuck._

* * *

Waking up, I was greeted with a scroll being thrust in my face by a small boy.

The scroll, from what I could tell, was informing me my boats had arrived and that they were ready to leave at my behest.

Sitting up, I turned to the boy. "Can you point me in the direction of the nearest castle?" I asked.

* * *

Apparently a rando going up to the nearest castle in fine clothes was a warning sign as I was dragged in and put in the custody of Edmure Tully who began to interrogate me.

"Hi~" I had already attempted giving him the smolder and as that had not worked I decided to use my other feminine wiles.

A door opened before I could.

"Robb!" I greeted happily.

"Y/N!"

He broke away from his wife and hurried over to me, his warm hug covering me like the best fur blanket.

When he released me, he held my shoulders and smiled.

"Let's go get drunk on my boat and you can tell me all about your kind of hot uncle," I offered. I winked at the other guy.

* * *

Many, many drinks later, I turned to Robb and told him to shush when he mentioned going to the old man's place for a wedding. The same old man who's daughter he fucked over.

"Did you just shush me?"

"Yes now shush. Listen to me very closely okay?" He nodded. "Don't go to the Freys. Let your wife and mother go as personal envoys but don't you dare go."

"I can't. You wouldn't understand..."

"What? Honour?" I scoffed. "Honour seems to get you Starks killed."

"Y/N..." Robb's words of protest trailed off as he slumped against the wall.

"I'm sorry. This is why I planned ahead."

Robb passed out onto the floor, sprawled, and after throwing a blanket over him, I called Grey Wind to my side and brought him out of the ship meant for people and onto a simple trading ship next to it headed for Qarth.

* * *

Arriving back in King's Landing, I had finished another lesson with Bronn before changing (whilst being asked my opinion on what I would like for the wedding to which I replied whatever's expensive) and heading down for what I had been reminded was Tyrion's wedding. Of course, that meant having to find Tywin.

* * *

After an hour of searching...

After an hour of wandering the castle aimlessly and playing hide and seek with Tommen and Ser Pounce, I had ended up at the throne room and shadowed Tywin who stepped inside, the doors being closed behind us.

"Your Grace," Tywin greeted the brat king who leisurely leaned back in the imposing chair.

"Grandfather," Joffrey greeted back.

"You wanted to speak to me?"

Joffrey seemed distracted as his eyes burned into my skin.

As Tywin began to turn to look behind him, Joffrey piped up. "Yes! I'd like a report on the meetings of my Small Council before my uncle's wedding this evening."

"You're welcome to attend the meetings of your Small Council, Your Grace, any or all of them."

"I've been very busy, many important matters require a King's attention!"

 "Of course."

"You've been holding the Small Council meetings in the Tower of the Hand, instead of the Small Council Chamber."

"I have, yes," Tywin replied.

"May I ask why?" Joffrey asked.

"The Tower of the Hand is where I work. To walk from there to here would take time - time I could otherwise spend productively."

"So, if I wanted to attend one of my Small Council meetings, I would now have to climb all the stairs in the Tower of the Hand?" Joffrey asked.

Tywin silently stalked up the steps leading to the throne so he loomed over Joffrey as he offered, "We could arrange to have you carried."

Crown-less Joffrey leaned back in the chair and swallowed before demanding, "Tell me about the Targaryen girl in the East, and her dragons."

"Where did you hear about this?"

"Is it true?"

I nodded in the background.

"Apparently so."

"Don't you think we ought to do something about it?" Joffrey inquired.

"When I was Hand of the King under your father's predecessor, the skulls of all the Targaryen dragons were kept in this room - and the skull of the last of them was right here. It was the size of an apple," Tywin informed his grandson.

"And the biggest was the size of a carriage!"

"Yes and the creature to whom it belonged died three hundred years ago!"  _When you were born._  "Curiosities on the far side of the world are no threat to us."

"But how do we know these dragons are...curiosities, and not the beasts that brought the whole world to heel?"

 "Because we have been told as much by the many experts who serve the Realm, such as your advisor who has seen the dragons first-hand, by counselling the King, on matters about which he knows nothing."

"But I haven't been counseled!" Joffrey complained.

"You are being counseled at this very moment."

Joffrey harrumphed. "I should be consulted about such things."

"From now on, I will see to it that you are appropriately consulted on important matters...whenever necessary." Tywin began to walk away, meeting my gaze before he turned back and bowed his head. "Your Grace."

"My lady," Tywin greeted as he offered me his arm which I took.

"Well I suppose we should go and discuss something to take your mind off of your son's wedding this eve."

I reveled in the slight tick on his eyebrow.

* * *

_This is the worst wedding ever._

I've been standing at Tywin's side in a crimson gown with gold hemming the trumpet sleeves and the end of it that swept the floor, the large choker with a ruby in the middle forcing me to keep my head up.

The only good thing about this was that no one had really expected me to talk except for them talking at me about my own wedding.

Finally, the crowd had all moved away and I watched as Sansa walked down the aisle on the verge of being sick with the non-paedophilic leech on her arm.

Tyrion looked equally as sick but was thankfully not walking with the King of the Twats on his arm. Instead he was idly standing and waited for her to join him.

An eternity later, Sansa was left alone by Joffrey, who took away Tyrion's stool and joined his mother.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," the septon bid.

Sansa turned so Tyrion could access her back, shifting the heavy gold and red cloak in his hands.

_That dress is kind of ugly both sides. Huh._

"Uh… Could you…" Tyrion stammered uselessly in spite of the mocking laughter of the crowd that Tywin and I shot down with one look.

Sansa knelt and was cloaked.

"Thank you."

She stood once more.

"Your Grace, Your Grace, my lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."

_Would not fucking count on it. Thank fuck that's over._

* * *

At the wedding feast, I simply ate and drank watered down wine. Anyone who came up to me to offer congratulations, I politely thanked them before turning back to Tywin to talk casually and smirking at his remarks about the people of the court.

I continued this until I was approached by a young girl in a long flowing gown that made everyone's eyes turn to me.

"Lollys of House Stokeworth, my lady..." She seemed extremely hesitatnt, her gaze locked on the floor.

_Understandable due to_

"Shall we speak in private?" I stood as soon as she nodded. "Excuse me, my lord."

Offering Lollys my arm which she took, we left the room.

* * *

In the hallway, Lollys and I sat down on a bench by the windows.

_Mmm~ Pig shit and burning. Fab._

"So... What's the buzz about?" I asked.

She pulled and twisted her skirts about as she replied quietly, "During the Bread Riots, I was pulled from the crowd and..."

_Oh shit._

"You don't need to say anymore. So... what can I do for you?"

"A match," she answered.

_Bastard children end up being edgy. Just look at Jon._

"A husband?" Lollys nodded. "Okay... I will think over this and get back to you. Are you staying in the capital long?" I asked and offered her my arm to head back for food.

* * *

When I returned to the dining room, Lollys thanked me and left me to go and find Tywin because Olenna was eyeing up the cheese platter by my plate.

Tywin was stood by the groom and bride's table 

"...Perhaps you could talk to your bride instead."

"I’ve got a lifetime for that."

"Stay. You seem rather drunk.

"Rather less than I plan to be. Isn’t it a man’s duty to be drunk at his own wedding?"

"This isn’t about your wedding. Renly Baratheon had a wedding. Your wife needs a child, a Lannister child, as soon as possible."

"And?"

"If you’re going to give her one, you need to perform-"

_Worry about yourself. Or Sansa who has just been accompanied out by Joffrey._

"What did you once call me? 'A drunken little lust-filled beast.'"

"More than once," Tywin admitted.

"There you have it." Tyrion's words were becoming slurred. "  
Nothing to worry about. Drinking and lust, no man can match me in these things. I am the god of tits and wine... I shall build a shrine to myself at the next brothel I visit!"

Tyrion leans forward to take a drink but it's pulled out of his reach by his father.

"You can drink, you can joke, you can engage in juvenile attempts to make your father uncomfortable, but you _will_ do your duty."

Then we returned to our seats to eat in silence.

When Joffrey came back with Sansa on his arm, she looked frightened and on the verge of being sick made even worse when he declared, **"** Time for the bedding ceremony!"

"There will be no bedding ceremony."

Joffrey, leading Sansa by the hand, ignored him. "Where's your respect for tradition, uncle?! Come, everyone! Pick her up, and carry her to her wedding bed! Get rid of her gown, she won't be needing it any longer! Ladies! Attend to my uncle, he's not heavy!"

"There will be no bedding ceremony."

"There will be if I command it!" Joffrey insisted like the spoilt brat he is.

Tyrion angrily slams his dagger into the table, startling Joffrey, and eliciting horrified silence from the wedding-goers.

"Then you'll be fucking your own bride with a wooden cock!" Tyrion threatened.

_Do it! JUST DO IT!_

Tywin, sensing danger through his spidey senses, got to his feet and marched over.

Joffrey, shocked and seething, could only stammer. "What did you say?... What...Did you. SAY!?"

"I believe we can dispense with the bedding ceremony, Your Grace. I'm sure Tyrion did not mean to threaten the king."

Tyrion visibly swallows his anger and grins ferally as he bursts out laughing, leaving my dagger in the table. As he calmed down, he pulled it out of the table and tucked it away. "A bad joke, Your Grace. Made out of envy of your own royal manhood. Mine is so small, my poor wife won't even know I'm there."

"Your uncle is clearly quite drunk, Your Grace."

"I am...guilty," Tyrion stated, taking a sip of wine that dribbles down his front. "But... But, it is my wedding night. My tiny drunk cock and I have a job to do." Stumbling to his feet, he bid to Sansa gently, "Come, wife."

As they passed me, followed by Tywin who re-claimed his seat, I over-heard, "I vomited on a girl once. Middle of the act. Not proud of it. But I think honesty is important between a man and wife. Don't you agree? Come, I'll tell you all about it, put you in the mood."

After they had left, Tywin and I retreated to the Tower of the Hand to get away from everyone else.

* * *

"Excuse me, my lord. I have business elsewhere," I begn to excuse myself upon seeing the late hour, the time had flown by as we discussed small council business, and knowing time was running short.

"Oh, pray tell?"

"It-"

"-is my concern as your future lord husband and keeper. Perhaps you are to visit Robb Stark and his new bride?" Tywin proposed.

"You plan to kill him, I presume?" I inquired.

Tywin only smirked which I took as confirmation.

"...What if I could prove my loyalty to the Lannisters once more?" I began. "If I hypothetically brought you the one thing that would never leave Robb Stark's side as proof, an extension of himself as the legend goes... Well, let's call it a wedding gift. Would you accept it?"

"I _will_ accept."

After bidding him goodnight, I left for a restless night of action.


	41. End of Season 3 And I Have Therapists To See (Chapter 40)

In Qarth, Viserys' meltdown seemed to have been met the same way a stripper's naked tit is; by throwing money at it.

The once sensible (if you could call it that) palace was now completely decorated with dragons of gold and silver, blood red tapestries and more wine than Cersei and Tyrion's wet dreams combined.

Now sat on one of the largest crimson sofas I had ever seen with Viserys sprawled the other end of it, I could barely hold anything down. Finally an appropriate moment came up to me to ask, "You've received them, yes?"

Ser Barristan' straightened awkwardly behind the sofa.

"What is it?"

"My lady, there is a slight problem," Ser Barristan eventually informed me.

"What slight problem?" I put my goblet down, worried that the news might make me hurl it at the wall.

"One of the boats did not reach here..." 

"And? If it's about the money or belongings on the boat-"

"You misunderstand me. Their belongings reached our shores as did his hound but as for the Northmen..."

"Where are they?" I hissed.

"With the Drowned God, I suppose... or they strayed and ventured back to Lord Frey." Viserys clicked his fingers and a servant stepped forward. "Fetch the wolf!" He ordered.

"My lady, one of the boats was set alight whilst the other managed to slip away. One of the men manning the ship managed to drag himself to dry land and send word to us."

"Thank you for your aid." The servant had come back and Grey Wind happily plodded over to me and sat at my side. "As for payment... Being King seems to suit you well, Viserys. How would you like to expand your empire?"

* * *

I began to write letters to the people I had known for so long. In my last letter, I take a purple violet, an apple blossom, and a purple Hyacinth from the nearby vase and tie them with an emerald hair ribbon before rolling the now dry parchment around it, tying that with a silver hair ribbon.

"My lady, your last breakfast (as a single woman) awaits," Emma reminds me.

After taking a deep breath to still my nerves, I gave the letters over to Emma and walked out of _my_ rooms.

* * *

The breakfast was a 'light' affair. So light that because Tyrion was 'hungover'... And Cersei was actually hungover... Tywin and I decided it would be best for the both of us to just attend the small council meeting to discuss the news he had received.

So I had headed back to my room to grab the wedding gift.

"Come on boy, let's go," I called the direwolf who leapt down from my bed and plodded over to me.

* * *

With Grey Wind at my side, I walked towards the small council chamber solemnly.

Staying in the shadows, I watched the scene in silence as Tyrion approached, passing me.

At the sight of his uncle, Joffrey leapt out of his seat at Tywin's side and hurried over to stand before his uncle's seat, facing Tywin.

"Killed a few puppies today?" Tyrion asked as he sat down.

Joffrey gestured to Pycelle, a mad grin on his face. "Show him. Go on, show him!"

Pycelle takes out a small scroll from his sleeve and holds it out, but drops it when Tyrion reaches for it. "Ohhh! I'm sorry, my Lord, old fingers."

Tyrion unfurled the scroll before he began to read it out, " _Roslin caught a fine fat trout. Her brother gave her a fine wolf pelt for her wedding. One pelt was stolen but we managed to retrieve it. Signed, Walder Frey._ " Tyrion 

"Is that bad poetry or is it supposed to mean something?" Tyrion asked.

Gleefully, Joffrey crowed, "Robb Stark is dead! And his bitch mother!" To Pycelle he demanded, "Write back to Lord Frey. Thank him for his service and command him to send Robb Stark's head. I'm going to serve it to Sansa at my wedding feast."

"Your Grace, Lady Sansa is your aunt by marriage-" Varys began.

"A joke. Joffrey did not mean it," Cersei attempted to end the argument.

"Yes, I did," Joffrey confirmed because he's a sick fuck. "I'm going to have it served to Sansa at my wedding feast."

"No," Tyrion replied, remaining firm. "She is no longer yours to torment."

"Everyone is mine to torment. You'd do well to remember that, you little monster."

 **"** Oh, I'm a monster?!" Tyrion's voice was low like a growl. "Perhaps you should speak to me more softly, then. Monsters are dangerous and just now kings are dying like flies."

The council are aghast by this threat, though Varys gives an amused smile.  _Fucking Varys._

"I could have your tongue out for saying that!" Joffrey threatened. 

"Let him make his threats. Hmm? He's a bitter little man," Cersei attempted to soothe her brat

"Lord Tyrion should apologise immediately," Pycelle cut in. "Unacceptable, disrespectful, and in very bad taste."

"There is no need for this," I stated as I appeared from the shadows. Tyrion's face paled as I walked forwards with the direwolf at my side.

"NO!" Joffrey exploded, slamming his fists onto the table. "I want Robb Stark's head, not his dog! I am the king! I will punish you-"

"Any man who must say, 'I am the king' is no true king. I'll make sure you understand that when I've won your war for you."

Joffrey's therapist must be paid so much money, evidenced as he burst out, "My father won the real war. He killed Prince Rhaegar. He took the crown while you hid under Casterly Rock!"

There is a long, tense silence, as the council wait to see how Tywin will respond to such a shocking insult; Tyrion watches eagerly to see which of the two relatives he despises the most will win. After he takes a second to contemplate his words to his grandfather, even Joffrey shows muted terror.

_Say goodbye to your dick. Should have let Tyrion take it._

But although Tywin's gaze never leaves Joffrey, he remains completely calm, and continues to betray no emotion. "The king is tired. See him to his chambers."

"Come along," Cersei urged quickly.

"I'm not tired!"

"We have so much to celebrate," Cersei attempted to persuade. "Your wedding to plan. Your grandfather's tomorrow... You must rest."

"Grand Maester, perhaps some essence of nightshade to help him sleep," Tywin called after him.

"I'm not... tired!" Joffrey protests as Cersei makes him leave, followed by everyone except Tywin and I who stayed in our seats.

Tyrion, last out of the door, is stopped by Tywin. "Not you."

Tyrion Lannister with grudging admiration comments, "You just sent the most powerful man in Westeros to bed without his supper."

"You're a fool if you believe he's the most powerful man in Westeros."

Tyrion gasped sarcastically. "A treasonous statement! Joffrey is king."

"You really think a crown gives you power?"

"No, I think armies give you power." Tywin nods. "Robb Stark had one, never lost a battle, and you defeated him all the same." Tywin nods again and Tyrion's eyes grow wide with understanding. "Oh, I know. Walder Frey gets all the credit, or the blame, I suppose, depending on your allegiance... Walder Frey is many things, but a brave man? No. He never would have risked such an action, unless he had certain assurances..."

"Which he got from me," Tywin stated. "Do you disapprove?" Although he was asking Tyrion, I felt as if he was asking me as well.

"I'm all for cheating, this is war. But to slaughter them at a wedding..."

"Explain to me why it is more noble to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner."

"So that's why you did it- to save lives?" Tyrion sarcastically asked, presumably already knowing the answer.

Tywin Lannister impatiently replied, "To end the war- to protect the family. Do you want to write a song for the dead Starks? Go ahead! Write one." Under the table, he took my hand and squeezed it gently yet his face remained stern. "I'm in this world a little while longer- to defend the Lannisters, to defend my blood."

"...The Northerners will never forget."

Tyrion's eyes bore into mine and I could only feel the ice crawling up my back despite the direwolf's warmth as Grey Wind pressed himself into my leg.

"Good. Let them remember what happens when they march on the South." Tywin squeezes my hand once more which once let go, I wipe on my skirt, and watch as he begins to put his papers away. "All the Stark men are dead. Winterfell is a ruin. Roose Bolton will be named Warden of the North- until your son by Sansa comes of age." Tywin stands. "I believe you still have some work to do on that score. He turns away, Tyrion stands up, furious, and follows him across the room whilst I stay petting the direwolf who had tensed noticing the tension.

"Do you think she'll open her legs for me after I tell her how we murdered her mother and brother?!" Tyrion's rage sent Grey Wind's ears back against his head, a low growl forming in his throat.

"One way or another, you will get that girl pregnant-"

"I will not rape her!"

"...Shall I explain to you in one easy lesson how the world works?"

Tyrion Lannister sneered. "Use small words- I'm not as bright as you!"

Tywin glared as he began, "The house that puts family first will always defeat the house that puts the whims and wishes of its' sons and daughters first." Tyrion gave him an odd expression. "A good men does everything in his power to better his family's position- regardless of his own selfish desires." I watched a vile smirk form on Tyrion's face which Tywin also noticed. "... Does that amuse you?!"

"No, it's a very good lesson... Only it's easy for you to preach utter devotion to family, when you're making all the decisions!"

"Easy for me, is it?"

"When have you ever done something that wasn't in your interest, but solely for the benefit of the family?!"

"Tywin-" I attempted to calm down the situation but I was too late.

Tywin with controlled fury finally snapped, "The day that you were born." Tyrion and I were caught off-guard with him stepping back whilst I grasped onto Grey Wind tighter. Tywin continues, for once showing grief for the loss of his first wife, the woman I would be replacing in a few hours. "I wanted to carry you into the sea and let the waves wash you away. Instead, I let you live- and I've brought you up as my son. Because you're a Lannister!"

Tywin turned and stormed out.

As his footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor like lightning receding, Tyrion turned to me and the much calmer but still alert Grey Wind.

"Why?" Tyrion asked. "Why go through all the trouble of snatching such a prize from Walder Frey only for the ends to be the same, regardless of the means? Why not stop that poor girl from being married to me?"  _Why did you pretend to be my friend?_ I could almost see the words hanging between us.

"If I told you the truth, you wouldn't believe me." I sighed. "Now, I must go. I have to sleep before my 'big day'.

* * *

I received no sleep, no last chance of escape or adventure so I simply read about the Valyrian language until I was called to be dressed.

* * *

Dressed in a white tent created by Laryss of the Reach, I could barely pay attention to the conversation between Emma... and mostly Emma as my hair was put up and the final stitches were added, by Jaslin Bole to the hem of my gown and massive sleeves, by  which trailed behind me and would be held up from the ground.

"Myrish lace, my lady," Emma commented as I stared at a particular stitch across my right tit was a little bit scratchy when I breathed. "Ordered straight from the ports of Qarth and along with it... a gift."

Her hesitation drew me away from it as a package was in Emma's hands suddenly.

"What's this?"

"Zorse skin wrapping." _Are Zebras trademarked now?_  From the wrapping, she revealed a Prince of Persia styled dagger. Her eyes grew wide as she looked it over before explaining, "It appears to be Dragonglass, my lady."

"Anything else?"

"Just this, my lady." A vase was handed to me and I almost sobbed as I looked at the flowers within;

A bunch of white Arbutus (Thee Only Do I Love), white Azalea (Take Care of Yourself for Me), white heather (protection), white jonquil (Love me), a single full bloom red rose (I still love you), and daffodils (you're the only one) sprinkled throughout amongst the dead leaves (sadness).

Before I could say anything more, someone knocked on the door and it was opened by Emma to reveal the younger servant of Tyrion's; the guy with the magical tongue apparently.

"My lady, it is time. Any last words?"

I shook my head.

_Got no time to talk I'm a dead girl walking._

* * *

Before I went inside the sept, still in the litter I had been carried here in, I was passed a bouquet to carry down and laughed bitterly at it before taking some out and passing them to Emma, telling her to wear them.

After all, the bouquet could have been further from the truth.

She looked happy enough with the Coreopsis (always cheerful) and the hibiscus rose (delicate beauty) I passed her... less so with the Aster (symbol of love) or the white carnations (pure love) which she promptly dumped out of the window, giving the crowd reason to cheer.

From her breast she withdrew a forget-me-not (true love) and placed it into my hair silently.

Before I could reject it because I was worried about her boob sweat, she shushed me with a sweet smile. "I know. I too once married away from the man I truly loved to make sure I was safe."

_Not what I was going to say but sure. Let's go with that._

* * *

"Your Grace," I greet Joffrey coldly, not even surprised with how bad my luck is at this point that he's walking me down the aisle.

"You're to be my grandmother. If the world was different, you could have been my wife. You could have been even Willas' lady wife. Look at him. Look how disappointed and miserable he is. I think he'll cry when you kiss my grandfather. Will you cry? I don't want you to be sad but..." Joffrey trails off, placing a fond hand on my cheek.

I feel nothing as I walk up the sept's aisle, all eyes on me, with Joffrey's arm linked in mine. He's silent as we walk, his jaw tight. _What's he got to be pissed about?_

The bells ring and as the doors close behind us, I can barely hear anything despite Joffrey's whispers into my ear and my footsteps echoing in the large hall.

Joffrey leaves me to ascend the first set of steps of my own, standing before the Septon isolated from the rest of the world until Tywin takes my arm.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," the High Septon orders.

Tywin in return took the heavily embroidered crimson and gold cloak from a nearby attendant before draping it over my shoulders. Taking my right hand he stood back beside me.

A gold ribbon is tied around our joint grasp by the Septon, who recites, "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity.  Look upon one another and say the words."

My gaze now locked with Tywin, I dead-panned the recitation of the words Lorenah had been making me practise for days as we vow in unison, "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his/hers and she/he is mine from this day until the end of my days."

"Your grace, your grace, my lords, my ladies. You stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. Let it be known that Lord Tywin of House Lannister and the Stormbringer herself, Lady Y/N of House Slytherin, are one flesh, one heart, one soul. Now and forever!"

Turning around, I gaze absently into the crowd as they applaud, observe the faces that appear prominent to me in the sea of masks.

Tyrion; gaze on the ground.

Olenna; indifferent with an arched eyebrow.

Margaery; a small tick in her smile.

And Willas... Looking at his face and slight tremble to his lip makes me want to sob. But I can't.

Instead I force a small smile on my face and try my hardest not to grin menacingly to scare poor Tommen.

* * *

"Your grace," I greeted Joffrey calmly despite him refusing to look at me properly.

"A gift for the beautiful bride!" Margaery offered as an attendant passed over the large box. "May I be as beautiful and radiant as you are on my own wedding day."

I could barely crack a smile but what little effort I did seemed to placate her enough to back up just a little bit.

Lifting the lid off of the box, I was surprised at what I had seen.

Inside the box was a large silk cloth folded neatly over something. Unfolding it, the long silk was a banner that still had fabric pooled in the box despite the large length in my arms already showcasing a twist of gold and green.

"I embroidered it with the help of my good-sister when I learnt of your... betrothal," Margaery commented.

"Thank you, Lady Margaery."

Inside the box... was another box. _Inception._ Slipping the box open, I was shocked to find it wasn't a beating heart but a large green and black  choker with dangling diamond threads for earrings paired with it.

"His Grace thoughtfully picked out that," Margaery informed me.

"Thank you, your Grace."

A gift was passed to Tywin but I was too busy focused on the fly hovering over a small splash of water on the floor.

My attention was drawn back when something was dropped onto the table that made it shake.

"Books?"

"The complete history of women in Westeros. I do hope you enjoy them... Mother," Tyrion offered and before I could thank him he walked back over to his seat by Sansa.

Tywin had tensed next to me and if looks could kill Tyrion would have been hand-delivered to the Devil.

"Well it's not a dagger but that's fine."

More gifts were given, even some of my own products before everyone gazed at me expectantly and after glancing at Lorenah mouthing at me. I finally twigged on. 

Standing up and looking down at Tywin, I announced, "The gift for my lord husband... May I present the direwolf; Grey Wind."

I could see the horror or Sansa's face as the wolf plodded over the table, standing taller than it and proceeding to sit before us.

"I accept." Tywin stood also, as I almost fell into my seat from the shock of it all. "The gift for my lady wife."

Two servants stepped forwards with a long blood red scabbard.

I could hear Cersei choke on her drink at the sight of the long golden sword I drew out of it but I think what triggered it was the large golden lion pendant that hung from the handle.

Taking it off of the handle, Tywin gestured for me to stand and lift my hair out of the way, and after I had done so, draped it over me until it settled over my breasts. As everyone gazed upon it, I could only feel it burn.

Finally, Joffrey spoke up, "Now that the gifts have been given, time for the bedding ceremony!"

"No," he shot down and simply extended a hand to me. "Come."

"That's the plan," I mutter as I take his offered hand and walk slowly past the Tyrell table, avoiding his eyes as I walked to my bridal chamber with the direwolf following us and my new sword at my side.

* * *

_I can now honestly say, hand on my heart, that older men are pretty good in bed._


	42. Fo Shizzle (Chapter 41)

That night after Tywin was done, he left me alone on the call of a squire who came to get him for an emergency.

It took me two glasses of wine to dull my senses along with a cup of Tansy which I had kept hidden in a small vial attached to my inner skirt, I was lulled into a sleep so deep I couldn't have been woken for all the glory of Loki's hammer.

* * *

When I awoke, it wasn't to the room I had fallen asleep in but to the cave with the tangled tree trapping the Three Eyed Raven within.

"H-How am I here? You said that if I-"

"I know what I said. I know what you said. I know what has been said by every person since time began."

 _That was helpful..._ "Astral projection.... This is some Ebeneezer Scrooge shit, isn't it? You're Bob... Jacob Marley and let me guess the ghost of the past is going to show me absolute nonsense, the present will show me _whatever,_ and future's going to show me my death?"

He sighed in disappointment. "You have not heeded my warning."

"What warning?"

_'One of these conditions is ties to the land. This is important, as long as you have no real ties here, you will not be forced to say once your time is up. Another is...'_

"Another is what?"

"You disobeyed the first. Your marriage has bound you-"

"WHAT WAS THE OTHER ONE?"

"You must aim to find the one true heir to the throne and name them," the tree wizard declared.

"That's it? Okay, Brienne of Tarth," I replied. "Now can I fuck off home?"

"No."

"No, what?" He didn't reply. "Is it because she isn't the daughter of anyone who's fucked their siblings or is it because I haven't aimed for her arse to land square on the seat of power?" He once more refused to reply. "So... can you give me a hint or at least a little bit of help because I have one of the  _worst_  powers ever!"

After a minute of staring off into space making me glance back at the wall to see it was still just slimy rock, he spoke once more. "You may choose one place each night to be and yet not but this is your last time here. Now... Go forth..."

Searing pain shot up through my spine, curling around my bones and I was dragged away with only glimpses of green guiding me into the darkness.

* * *

Apparently my travelling will now come with wardrobe changes because I'm now in trousers and a loose shirt with my boots and a cloak.

I hear a gasp from behind me and before I can register anything behind the massive fucking horse, someone leaps onto me, knocking me to the ground.

"Y/N!"

As I raise my knee to kick them in the crotch, I realise who is nuzzling into my chest and return the warm embrace. "ARYA!"

"Y/N?" A gruff voice echoes my name and looking past the horse, I see who it is.

"Sandor? What the f...frickle are you doing with her?"

* * *

Now part of the quest, I got to sit in front of Sandor on the horse as a human buffer between him and Arya. Onwards, we ride in silence.

_Mainly because no one else knew the lyrics and weren't interested in Rocky Horror or other musicals although Sandor would make a good Phantom..._

"When am I going to get a horse of my own?" Arya asked out of the blue.

"The little lady wants a pony." Sandor scoffs.

"The little lady wants away from your stench," Arya retorts.

"Horses aren’t easy to come by," Sandor reasoned. "Even if they were, you think I’m gonna put you on your own horse? Watch the only thing of value I’ve got in the world ride away?"

"Why don’t you have any money?" I asked.

"Didn’t you steal anything from Joffrey before you left?" Arya asked.

"No."

"You’re not very smart, are you?

"I’m not a thief."

"You’re fine with murdering little boys, but thieving is beneath you?" Arya snottily inquired.

"Make like Elsa and let it go."

"A man’s got to have a code," Sandor stated.

"You think I’m gonna escape? Where would I go? I’d be dead by nightfall without you," Arya pointed out mournfully. "My family’s gone. I’ve got no one except Y/N..."

You’ve got an aunt in the Vale. Your _rich_ Aunt Lysa," Sandor pointed out. "After I sell you to her, maybe she’ll have enough left over to buy you that pony you want so much."

Then we fell back into silence.

* * *

Hiding in the bushes, we stared at an inn below as Arya tried to convince Sandor to kill them all for us to eat because they hadn't thought about money.

"I'm hungry. Y/N's hungry. YOU'RE hungry."

"Five horses, five men. More than I feel like killing on an empty stomach."

The door opens and two men walk out; Arya seems to recognize one of them as she says, "I know him. The small one. His name is Polliver. He captured us and took us to Harrenhal. He killed Lommy."

"What the fuck's a Lommy?" Sandor and I asked in unison.

"He was my friend. Polliver stole my sword and put it right through his neck. He's still got it."

"Got what?"

"My sword Needle."

"Needle?" I echoed.

Sandor rolled his eyes. "Of course you named your sword."

"Lots of people name their swords."

"Lots of cunts." Arya had already seized the opportunity to dart forwards out of the bushes and begin edging towards the place. "What are you… Get back…"

"Arya!" I hissed after her.

"My brother gave me that sword," she called back.

_Jon?_

_"_ Get back here!" Sandor ordered.

"He killed my friend."

"I don’t care if he ate your friend. We’re not going in there."

* * *

_Walking into the club like... what the fuck are they doing to that girl?_

"Come on, give it up. Come here. Let’s have a feel, eh?"

"Leave it!" 

"Come here."

A young girl sat on the lap of a guy, squirming to get out of his hold as he held her down. Meanwhile his two friends just looked on and drank.

When the door opened and Sandor stomped in ahead of us, Arya and I trailing in behind him allowing Arya to close the door gently.

At the back of the room, Sandor sat down in silence with his back to the wall on a picnic table with Arya on his right and me on his left.

As Sandor paid minimal attention to the scene before him, the girl was thrown like a rag doll from one man to another, his hands roaming her skin.

"Please, she’s a good girl," an older man begged, hovering over one of the drinking baldies.

"Shut your mouth and pour us more ale, and we may not take her with us when we’re done with her."

Suddenly, all eyes were on us and I kept my head down and under the cloak.

The ass-hole craned his neck towards us and with a smile of recognition, stated, "I know you." I heard the slip of metal as Arya grabbed onto the handle of Sandor's sword, ready to draw it. "You’re the Hound." He stood up and headed over to our table, plopping himself down on the other side. Once he was there he ordered over his shoulder, "Pour our new friend some ale." Turning back he asked, "What brings you so far north?"

"I could ask the same of you. What are you doing up here?" Sandor inquired casually.

"Just keeping the King’s peace," the guy I recognised now as Polliver answered.

"No need. The war’s over."

A flagon of ale was placed in front of Sandor, sloshing slightly as the man trembled before hurrying away.

"So I’ve heard. Stannis defeated at the Blackwater. Robb Stark killed at the Twins and where am I for all of it? Stuck with your brother. Meaning no offence." Clearly this guy is scared as fuck of Gregor Clegane.

"None taken," Sandor curtly replied.

"He’s good, the Mountain is," Polliver began. "Best at what he does. But torture, torture. You spend enough time putting the hammer to people, you start to feel like a carpenter making chairs. Drains the fun right out of it. And what’s life without a little fun? But I don’t need to tell you that, eh?" He nodded over to me, a smirk on his lips that made my skin crawl. "She’s all right."

"I’ve had better."

_I shouldn't be offended but god fucking dammit._

"You know what? You should come with us. His kind, they’ve always got something hidden away somewhere. Gold, silver, more daughters. Always something if you know how to make them talk. And there’s plenty of him between here and King’s Landing. You could do well for yourself. We certainly have been."

"I’m not going to King’s Landing," Sandor stated firmly.

"Think about it," Polliver said as if his words could convince Sandor and not the promise of drink and money. "We could do whatever we like, wherever we go. These are the King’s colours. No one’s standing in his way now. Which means no one’s standing in ours."

And then Sandor cemented himself as one of my heroes in the few words he spat out, "Fuck the King."

"When I heard that Joffrey’s dog had tucked tail and run from the Battle of the Blackwater, I didn’t believe it. But here you are."

"Here I am," Sandor announced before demanding."Bring me one of those chickens."

"You got money to pay for it?"

"You paid for it?" Sandor asked.

"No. But we’re the King’s men. So, you got money?"

"Not a penny," Sandor answered. "I’ll still take that chicken."

"Tell you what. We’ll trade you. One of our little chickens for one of yours. Give us a go at either of your friends. Lowell there likes them a bit broken in."

Sandor paused before stating, "You're a talker. Listening to talkers makes me thirsty." He reaches across the table, grabs Polliver's drink, and drains it. "And hungry. Think I'll take two chickens."

Polliver turns and looks at his men, then turns back to Sandor. "You don't seem to understand the situation."

"I understand that if any more words come pouring out your cunt mouth, I'm gonna have to eat every fucking chicken in this room."

"You lived your life for the king. You gonna die for some chickens?" Poxy Polliver asked.

"Someone is."

If knight cops had existed and arrested us, I wouldn't have been able to pinpoint who struck out first.

That's a lie, it was Polliver who drew his sword and Sandor flipped the table, forcing me to stand and watch as he beat down the first guy that ran at him.

Another goon ran forwards but he simply slashed them across the back, sending them sprawling. 

The girl was whining and just make a general fuss as she watched the scene from under a table instead of running, her father out of sight.

Hurrying over to her and avoiding the mayhem, I guided her to the door and forced her out before closing it behind me.

Sandor had been taken down by three of the goons, the two had gotten up, and were currently kicking the shit out of him.

Despite all this, he was still able to block when someone decided to attempt stabbing him, knocking them over and away just enough that he could stand.

One of the swords had landed just before me and with a guy crawling over to it desperately, I stood on it and with my best foot, I kicked forwards and into the guy's jaw.

I had lost track of Arya but Sandor had once again been forced to the floor and with a knife at his throat I could only pick up the sword I had used and move forwards.

My effort wasn't needed as the man was dropped onto his own sword and pushed aside.

**CRASH**

Arya had appeared from nowhere, dropping a pot onto someone's head and after taking their sword, slitting his throat.

Dashing forwards, she cut another man down and then forced Polliver onto his back by slitting his ankles.

Arya took the sword off of the man and with ice in her voice she asked, "Something wrong with your leg, boy?"

"W-What do you mean?" Polliver asked from his place against the filthy floor.

"Can you walk?" she asked. "I’ve got to carry you?"

"Carry me?" Polliver echoed, attempting to sit up.

"Fine little blade." Arya put the point of the blade at his throat. "Maybe I’ll pick my teeth with it." With those words she sent it through him and withdrew it, a smile upon her face as he began to spit up blood.

Wiping the blood off of the blade, she turned to me.

After watching that scene and only stood on a sword, I felt a bit useless... and that's when it hit me;

_Oh fuck, I'm Donkey._

* * *

I pulled Sandor to one side as Arya began to load up Stranger and hastily whispered, feeling the tugging in my navel, "Sandor, please take care of her. Shrek took care of Donkey but then he took of Puss and that meant Antonio still had a career..."

"What the fuck are you-"

Then it was if a wave had rolled over me, sweeping me away.

* * *

Jolting awake, I feel the warm cotton under my hands and the warmer arm around my naked waist.

As I step out of bed, naked as the day I was born but much less bloody, I stretched before the rising sun and began my day...

By getting into the bath Alis had run for me.

* * *

One bath later, I was dressed in a high necked Lannister red gown with gold embellishments and the heavy pendant around my neck, my hair pulled up and out of my face.

"So... what's my agenda for today?" I asked Emma who stood before me in what had once been the place Syrio Forel's body stood but now it just had a dining table. Lorenah had joined her for some reason.

"Firstly, my lady, we have to arrange for your items to be moved to here or to your new home at Casterly Rock-"

"Send all of my furniture, the bits I actually like and use, to Slytherin Keep," I picked up a slice of bread and spread some jam over it. "Actually, rename it Slytherin Castle. Also, I want completely white and silver furniture here."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "You're serious..."

"Oh frickle fack fizzle I'm fo shizzle my nizzle..." I took a bit out of bread and after swallowing it I stated, "Also, the bits I don't want give to the orphanage. With some of the pieces they can always sell them off."

"I will get right on that." She scribbled something down on the scroll she held as she asked, "And your businesses?"

"What about them?"

Lorenah piped up, "Surely you want to disband them now that you're married. A good wife-"

"-Puts up with her husband. Not gives up her life." I turned back to Emma and stated, "I'm keeping them.  _All of them._ Even the underground ones." Turning back to Lorenah, I asked, "By the way, why are you here?"

"Seeing as your lessons are not needed anymore, I have decided my tutelage is needed elsewhere unless you would like for me to stay..."

"Nah. Go ahead. I'm sure someone else needs you more at their side."

"If Lorenah is no longer your tutor, who will you choose as your companion?" Emma inquired.

"Companion?" I echoed.

Lorenah had to close her eyes to stop the roll I knew she was going to make. "A lady's companion is typically her closest confidante as well as member of the court. As such, Emma is not fit for the role. For your position, I would suggest you either accompany Lady Margaery-"

"What about Sansa?"

"M-My lady, that's highly inappropriate. Despite her position, Lady Sansa is still a ward of the King and could be a danger to you as advisor to the King and wife of the Hand of the King and good-grandmother to the King and-"

"Okay, thank you Lorenah." She shut up. "If that's all... I wish you well in your future endeavours. May I suggest a student?"

"Of course, Lady Lannister."  _Oh I am never going to get used to that._

"Lollys Stokeworth."

Before anymore words could be said, the door slammed open to reveal Joffrey.

"Grandmother! Won't you join me for lunch?" he offered.

 _I was just eating my breakfast but free food..._ "Of course, Joffrey."

I took his offered arm and stood, leaving Emma and Lorenah to duel amongst themselves or whatever they do when I'm not here.

"But first... I have business to attend to that my advisor may be able to finalise the details of."

* * *

_I'm going to starve. Or die of boredom first._

Despite Jaime's arrival, probably why Tywin had still been asleep and had gone, we were all acting as if he had never left. All that really had changed was the golden hand he now wore over what had been a stump.

Back in his golden armour and with much shorter hair, it was harder to compare him to Prince Charming despite the Shrek-tacular adventure I had been on.

Instead he was just a man planning out wedding details with Ser Meryn.

"...All the Kingsguard will be on duty. Ser Boros will be stationed here. Ser Preston will be stationed here, beside the primary entertainment.  
Your Grace?"

"Huh?" My attention was drawn to where Joffrey had been just staring at me and with my own gaze locked on the map, I hadn't noticed. He simply waved off the incredulous stare of his uncle. "One guard at the thing. Go on."

"Ser Meryn will guard Lady Margaery and Tommen-"

"I’ve always guarded the King himself, my lord. Ever since your absence."

"And I thank you for it, Ser Meryn."

"All very good. I don’t expect any trouble," Joffrey stated.

"The people love their King," Ser Meryn informed him, stroking Joffrey's ego. "They know who keeps them fed."

"Margaery Tyrell, I’ve heard," Jaime remarked.

"By my leave," Joffrey began. "They know I saved the city. _I_ won the war."  _If he starts this 'I did this' nonsense up again, I may have to grab Tywin._

"The war’s not won. Not while Stannis lives," I said.

"I broke Stannis on the Blackwater." Joffrey's gaze finally left me at he smirked at Jaime. "Pity you weren’t there to help, Uncle."

"My apologies, Your Grace. I was rather busy-"

"Busy getting captured."

"So this is the famous Book of Brothers?" I asked, staring at the open book on the desk, wanting to cut through the tension or their throats, whichever brought me peace and quiet.

"All the great deeds of all the great Kingsguard," Joffrey commented, pressing himself against my back to look over my shoulder and turning the pages before he found one he liked and pointed at the name before reading out loud, "Ser Arthur Dayne; the Sword of the Morning. Led the attack on the Kingswood Brotherhood. Defeated the Smiling Knight in single combat."

He flicked the page.

"Ser Duncan the Tall?"

"Four pages," Joffrey stated as he checked the number. "He must have been quite a man."

"So they say," Jaime retorted.

Joffrey flicked another page, revealing a mostly blank page. "Ser Jaime Lannister. Hmm... Someone forgot to write down all your great deeds."

"There’s still time-"

"Is there?" Joffrey asked. "For a year-old knight with one hand? How can you protect me with that?

"I use my left hand now, Your Grace. Makes for more of a contest." Jaime smirked at his nephew-son.

_God if this kid was any more inbred, he'd be a sandwich._

Thank fuck for Emma. As if sent by some God who wasn't currently fucking me over, she appeared and announced, "My lady, it's your good-granddaughter. She's... starving herself and..."

"Okay, I'll go see her. Apologies about lunch. Perhaps later."

Then I was out of there faster than the Winchesters slipping out of Death's grasp.

* * *

As I approached where I had been told Sansa was, I stayed in the shadows out of sight hopefully and avoid anyone who wished to talk to me.

Sansa sat at a table loaded with sweets and things that normally I would have made a grab for if not for Tyrion approaching ahead of me.

"...You love lemon cakes." Shae spotted Tyrion and demanded, "Tell her she needs to eat."

"My lady, you do need to eat," Tyrion stated.

"I don’t want to eat."

Tyrion sighed like a parent dealing with a petulant child before turning to Shae. "If I could have a moment alone with my wife."

"She needs to eat." Shae stormed off a safe distance in the other direction and Tyrion watched her go.

"I can’t let you starve. I swore to protect you. My lady, I am your husband. Let me help you."

"How can you help me?" Sansa asked, her eyes rimmed red like her hair.

"I don’t know, but I can try."

"I lie awake all night staring at the canopy, thinking about how they died."

"I could get you essence of nightshade to help you sleep," Tyrion offered. **  
**

"Do you know what they did to my brother? They burnt him. Flaming arrows were sent flying from the keep as it sailed and it lit up like a funeral pyre... And my mother. They cut her throat to the bone and threw her body in the river after defiling her."

"What happened to your family was a terrible crime," Tyrion began. "I didn’t know your brother. He seemed like a good man, but I didn’t know him. Your mother, I admired her. She wanted to have me executed, but I admired her. She was a strong woman. And she was fierce when it came to protecting her children. Sansa. Your mother would want you to carry on. You know it’s true."

Despite his kind words, Sansa's eyes were only on me standing beyond Tyrion, burning into my soul. "Will you pardon me, my lord? I’d like to visit the godswood."

"...Of course," Tyrion agreed. "Prayer can be helpful, I hear."

"I don’t pray any more. It’s the only place I can go where people don’t talk to me."

"Oh..." Tyrion's face dropped and he turned away as she hurried in my direction.

"Y/N... please come with me," she whispered her offer as she passed me like a rush of wind would.

Seeing Tyrion's gaze caught on Shae, I followed after her.

* * *

A gnarled white tree with limbs as wild as the land it was taken from greeted us when we reached the outside of the gardens, separated from the rest of the world by a high wall on one side and the large maze of bushes we had to walk through to get here.

Sansa knelt between it's large roots and clasped her hands before her and sat in silence. I knelt next to her and just felt the bark beneath my fingers and the grass pressing into my gown, the smell of the city faint here and it reminded me of Winterfell. 

Probably why Sansa came here often.

"I want you to come with me," she blurted out suddenly, opening her eyes. "When I leave King's Landing, I want you by my side."

"Sansa-" I began.

"It's safe," she attempted to reassure me, grabbing onto my hands and gazing at me earnestly. "I promise you."

"How? What's the plan?" I asked.

Hesitantly, she replied in a hushed voice, "I have a... friend. He's willing to get me out because I saved him. It's safe-"

"Is it really?" I asked. "I had a detailed plan. I fucking arranged for a boat. I arranged for two trading ships in fact. I even arranged for the small things just like... Not important." _After all, Sansa nearly got her dog killed and despite being Donkey, I wasn't a complete idiot._ "I arranged for everything. I married myself off for terms and conditions that make the humancentipad look reasonable! I learnt how to drug someone without lasting damage because I'm considerate. I basically sold my soul to a guy that makes Bobby B look like a sober angel and yet what happens? Everything goes to shit. So if you're planning on trusting Baelish, prepare to get fucked over." I sniffled, wiping my eyes and squaring my shoulders, took deep breaths to calm down before admitting, "I needed to get that off my chest."

No one spoke for a while and Sansa simply sank into my side.

"Then what should I do?" Sansa asked in a voice just above a whisper.

"Detail a better plan." Standing up straight, I only smiled tightly at Sansa over my shoulder. "I'll leave you to your prayers."

Before she could call out to me, I had walked around the corner of the bushes and prepared to head back to the Red Keep for enough wine to drown myself in.

* * *

_Fuck this place is a maze. David Bowie should have got Jennifer Connelly to run through here and she would have never found Baby Waldo._

In my rush I hadn't seen the walking stick or I wouldn't have tripped over it and almost ended up in Willas' lap.

"My lady..." He helped right me, sitting me on the bench next to him, a book now in his lap.

"Oh, my apologies Wil- my lord."

He flinched at the name as if I had struck him. "Willas, please. It's all right, regardless. I've been meaning to speak with you about... my feelings."

"Willas-"

"I will wait for you. As long as it takes. I will spend the rest of eternity alone so I can have even just a single moment as yours."

"Willas-"

"I know just who you are but what matters is the truth that I alone seem to know, that you hold my heart. You're the home my heart searched for so long and it is you I have loved all along.

"WILLAS!"

He finally shut up.

"Please just stop it. I am married and once Tywin is dead I probably will follow him shortly after. Do yourself a favour and find someone who likes hawks and flowers and all the things that make you so amazing and let them appreciate you like you deserve because I can't... I can't give that to you. Alright?" I avoided his gaze and hid under my hands, wet but not from sweat as I continued, "I don't need this! I can't take all of this anymore and... and..." I cut myself off, gasping with trembling shoulders.

"Y/N..." Willas' hands cupped my own, taking them away from my face. Letting go, he cupped my face and brushed under my eyes with his thumbs before he began to lean in... getting closer-

"BROTHER!"

We jolted apart as Loras strolled forwards and seeing this as my chance, I stood up, curtsied and fucked off.


	43. DING DONG THE DICK IS DEAD! (Chapter 42)

Life as Lady Lannister was tedious.

My days were long and filled with social things like sewing and more sewing and occasionally, listening to someone play Florian and Jonquil on the lute because no one wants to learn 'She Works Hard For The Money.

But before all of the necessity of court or talking to family members with creepy crushes or intent to murder, it all began before the sun rose, writing a small letter of things for Emma to do and replying to the note she sent me before bed.

For example, the one I had received last night;

_My Lady,_

_Profits are high as usual and soon the new shipments of toys will be sent out to_

_Firstly, your new furniture shall arrive in a day's time._

_Secondly, today is King Joffrey's wedding and despite the dress that was made for you, Lady Margaery of House Tyrell has sent you a dress extremely similar in your house colours. I would advise wearing it._

_As you have ordered,_

_Live Long and Prosper._

Then I would go wash any spunk from my legs and ying yang, dress in trousers and fuck off down to the beach.

* * *

My usual lesson with Bronn had taken place and just as I had begun to pack up to leave, I heard Jaime's voice as footsteps hurried down the cliff side, "My brother tells me you keep your mouth shut. Unusual talent, for a sellsword."

"He tells me you shit gold, just like your father," Bronn remarked as I hurried to stand flat against the cliff in an attempt to be out of sight.

"Is this place safe?" Jaime asked.

I began to edge away, staying out of Jaime's line of sight until I could begin to grapple up the rocks.

As I did so, I listened to Bronn behind me begin, "There's this knight, er, Laygood. Got thunderbolts on his shield? Right here is where I fuck his wife. She's a screamer, that one. If they don't hear her, they won't hear us."

Bronn whistles as steel is drawn.

"I've never seen Valyrian steel before. She's a beauty. Problem is, if you fight with an edged blade, I'll have to. And if I fight with an edged blade, I'll have no one left to pay me."

Out of view, hopefully, I sat down to watch as Bronn pulls two blunted swords out of his bag and drops one on the ground for Jaime to pick up, the swords we had been using moments ago.

"I haven't used a sparring sword since I was nine," Jaime complains.

Just as he grabs the practice sword, Bronn hits him on the wrist with his blade, forcing him to drop it.

"Bold warrior you are, attacking a man when his guard's down."

"Best time to attack a man." He attacked as Jaime picks up the sword; they spar for a moment, then Bronn shoves him against a rock wall, warning, "Mind yourself!

"If I still had my right hand..."

"Plan on growin' it back?" Bronn winks up at me.

Just as Jaime turns to look in the direction of the wink, Bronn almost knocks Jaime over, and Jaime waves him off.

Breathing heavily, Jaime re-positions himself with a determined look on his face.  _"_ Come on, then."

* * *

Later that morning, when I had returned and taken a bath and was dressed, the breakfast for the betrothed had begun and at Tywin's side I sat with Cersei on my right to watch the gifts been given.

"From House Tyrell and the people of the Reach, Your Grace, it is my honour to present you with this wedding cup," Mace Tyrell declared his gift of a shitty cup. "May you and my daughter Margaery drink deep and live long."

"A handsome goblet, my lord... or shall I call you Father?" Joffrey asked.

"I should be honoured, Your Grace," Mace accepted; putty in Joffrey's greedy little hands.

Meanwhile, Cersei leaned over to Tywin and pointed out Shae who was bringing over Tyrion's gift. "She’s the whore I told you about. The dark-haired one."

"Have her brought to the Tower of the Hand before the wedding-" Tywin began to order.

"Nope. Take her elsewhere. They're my rooms as well."

Despite looking displeased, he didn't contradict my orders and so we watched Tyrion approach Joffrey who look displeased at the gifts.

"Hmm. A book?"

"The Lives of Four Kings," Tyrion announced the book he had given. "Grand Maester Kaeth’s history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good. A book every king should read."

Joffrey simply nodded. "Now that the war is won, we should all find time for wisdom. Thank you, Uncle."

One of the Lannister men approached with a sword between his two palms.

"One of only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, Your Grace," Tywin announced. "Freshly forged in your honour from the great-sword of House Stark; Ice."

I watched the colour fall from Sansa's face as recognition slapped her.

Joffrey hurried around the side, approaching it like a new toy. Once he reached it, he drew it out and sliced Tyrion's gift in half.

"Careful, Your Grace," Tywin warned. "Nothing cuts like Valyrian steel."

"So they say... Such a great sword should have a name. What shall I call her?" Joffrey asked the crowd.

"Stormbringer," someone suggested.

"Terminus," someone else called out.

"Widow’s Wail."

"Wolfsbane."

"Widow’s Wail," Joffrey echoed. "I like that. Every time I use it, it’ll be like cutting off Ned Stark’s head all over again."

The main gifts now given, I barely paid attention to any approaching visitors except for the large figure of Brienne who bowed clumsily.

"Your Grace," she greeted Cersei who smirked in response. "My king, my queen."

Margaery rose and offered her hand to Brienne who shook it. "Lady Brienne. So good of you to come."

"I'm no lady, your Grace."

Cersei smiled teasingly as she inquired, _"_ Did you just bow?"

Brienne calmly replied, "Apologies, your Grace. I never did master the curtsy."

Joffrey pointed at her, awe almost in his tone as he stated, "You're the one who put a sword through Renly Baratheon."

"That's not true, my love. Brienne had nothing to do with it."

Joffrey sneered. "A shame. I'd knight the man that put an end to that deviant's life."

"I just wanted to congratulate you both and wish you good fortune. The country has been at war too long. I hope your reign is long and peaceful."

Joffrey, clearly bored, simply waved her off. "Yes, yes."

"Thank you. I hope we see more of you," Margaery warmly bid.

* * *

Thankfully after that, it wasn't too long until I could leave the table and so I went in search of a friendly face; Tyrion, Brienne or even Willas.

Instead, I found Cersei and Brienne chatting.

So, picking up a goblet of wine and some grapes, basically wine in solid form like ice is for water, I stood in the shadows of a tent and watched..

"...Lady Brienne. You’re Lord Selwyn Tarth’s daughter. That makes you a lady whether you want to be or not."

"As you say, Your Grace."

"I owe you my gratitude. You returned my brother safely to King’s Landing-"

"In truth, he rescued me, Your Grace. More than once."

"Did he?" Cersei asked. "Haven’t heard that story before."

"Not such a fascinating story."

"I’m sure you have many," Cersei proposed. "Sworn to Renly Baratheon, Catelyn Stark, and now my brother. Must be exciting to flit from one camp to the next, serving whichever lord or lady you fancy."

"I don’t serve your brother, Your Grace-"

"But you love him."  _OTP!_

Brienne didn't respond but instead bid farewell with a simple, "Your Grace."

Fearing her movement would blow my cover, I drained my wine and gave the cup over to another servant and walked past.

In my search for anyone else, I walked past a flexible and mostly nude woman, her naked arse in the air.

_How the fuck is that allowed?_

"Hello~" a man purred behind me and I moved to the side to watch Tyrion turn to face the man.

"...Hello?"

"Not you." As the man approached the table with a woman at his side, I hurried over to Tyrion's side.

"Tyrion... If we could just speak-"

He brushed past me and so I went off to find where Tywin had gone to, not in the mood for polite court chatter.

* * *

Finding Tywin wasn't difficult, I just looked for the tall man with the direwolf following at his side. Upon seeing me, he fell into step behind me and offered me an arm to loop mine into.

It would have been fine, to walk around like that, if not for the appearance of Cersei.

"You’re in rather a good mood," Cersei commented on her father's smile.

"I suppose I am."

"Small pleasures," I muttered.

"Your Grace, Lord Tywin," someone called out and drew closer to us, a woman following in a bikini top covered by a jacket thing.

"Prince Oberyn," my husband greeted back.

"I don’t believe you have met Ellaria," the man introduced the woman at his side. "This is the Lord Hand Tywin Lannister, and... I don't believe we've met?"

Tywin straightened. "Prince Oberyn, may I present my lady wife; the royal Lady Y/N of House Slytherin-"

"The Woman of the Sky?" Ellaria asked.

I simply nodded in reply.

"-and Cersei Lannister, the Queen Regent. I suppose it is former Queen Regent now. Lord Hand, Advisor and Lady Cersei, Ellaria Sand."

"My lord. My lady."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." I smiled at them because I could feel the prejudice coming off of Cersei in waves.

"Charmed." I could tell Cersei didn't mean it. "Can’t say I’ve ever met a Sand before."

Ellaria's face fell from the pleasant smile it had been in once before, her suggestive smirk gone as she stated, "We are everywhere in Dorne. I have hundred of brothers and sisters."

Oberyn, in an attempt to lighten the mood, asked, "Bastards are born of passion, aren’t they? We don’t despise them in Dorne."

"No? How tolerant of you."  _Oh the irony of that statement._

"I expect it is a relief, Lady Cersei, giving up your regal responsibilities." Oberyn smirked. "Wearing the crown for so many years must have left your neck a bit crooked."

"I suppose you’ll never know, Prince Oberyn," Tywin stated. "It’s a shame your older brother couldn’t attend the wedding. Please give him our regards. With any luck, the gout will abate with time and he will be able to walk again."

"They call it the rich man’s disease. A wonder you don’t have it."

I could barely hide the laugh as I covered my mouth, feigning a cough,

Tywin's displeasure was made known by the stone expression he slipped into. "Noblemen in my part of the country don’t enjoy the same lifestyle as our counterparts in Dorne."

"People everywhere have their differences," I offered, attempting to steer the situation into something like 'in my country we call it football'.

"In some places," Oberyn began. "The highborn frown upon those of low birth. In other places, the rape and murder of women and children is considered distasteful. What a fortunate thing for you, former Queen Regent, that your daughter Myrcella has been sent to live in the latter sort of place."

A stand off had begun and there was nothing I could to do stop it except play a card Princess Peach would be proud of... I slumped into Tywin's side.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I feel a bit faint. I fear I  _must_ sit down."

Cersei rolled her eyes.

An arm went around my shoulders and he held one of my hands, helping me straighten up. "Certainly. Prince Oberyn. Lady Ellaria. Apologies but I must see to my wife."

"Of course. After all, you wouldn't want  _this_  wife to fall to poor health," Oberyn commented as Tywin escorted me back to the table.

* * *

Sat back down between Tywin and Cersei, Tommen on her other side, I had been sipping water when suddenly Joffrey stood up from the table.

"Everyone, silence!" Joffrey ordered. "Clear the floor. There’s been too much amusement here today. A royal wedding is not an amusement. A royal wedding is history. Time has come for all of us to contemplate our history. My lords, my ladies, I give you King Joffrey, Renly, Stannis, Robb Stark, Balon Greyjoy!" For each name a dwarf left a lion's mouth and hurried onto the stage before the tables. "The War of the Five Kings!"

I stared at the one who was meant to be Robb with a wolf for a head and could only think about that burning ship, the ship I had lead him to, and the direwolf stretched under the table at my feet.

Soon, the show was finished and they stood and bowed.

Joffrey stood clapping as he declared, "Well fought. Well fought. Here you are-" He threw a small bag at them. "-Champion's purse. Though you're not the champion yet, are you? A true champion defeats all the challengers. Surely there are others out there who still dare to challenge my reign. Uncle. How about you?" Joffrey asked his uncle. "I'm sure they have a spare costume."

"One taste of combat was enough for me, Your Grace. I would like to keep what remains of my face. I think you should fight him," Tyrion suggested. "This was but a poor imitation of your own bravery on the field of battle. I speak as a firsthand witness. Climb down from the high table with your new Valyrian sword and show everyone how a true king wins his throne. Be careful, though-" Tyrion nods towards the dwarf champion. "This one is clearly mad with lust. It would be a tragedy for the king to lose his virtue hours before his wedding night."

Enraged and humiliated, Joffrey stormed over to Tyrion and emptied his goblet over his uncle's head. Like a cunt.

"A fine vintage," Tyrion commented. "Shame that it spilled."

"It did not spill."

"My love, come back to me," Margaery suggested. "It's time for my father's toast."

"Well, how does he expect me to toast without wine?" To Tyrion, Joffrey demanded, "Uncle, you can be my cup-bearer seeing as you're too cowardly to fight."

"Your Grace does me a fine honour-"

"It's not meant as an honour," Joffrey stated.

After a brief pause, Tyrion gets up to take the cup, but Joffrey drops it. As Tyrion bends to pick it up, Joffrey kicks it underneath a table.

"Bring me my goblet," Joffrey ordered.

Tyrion goes underneath the table searching for the goblet. From the corner of my eye, I spot Sansa pick it up and hand it to Tyrion, who, in turn, hands it to Joffrey.

"What good is an empty cup? Fill it," Joffrey ordered.

Tyrion filled the cup with wine and handed it to Joffrey.

 _"_ Kneel." Tyrion glances at Joffrey in disbelief. "Kneel before your king. Kneel." Tyrion still didn't comply and just glared at his nephew causing him to order in a rage, "I said... kneel!"

_You're not Loki. Don't even try it._

"Look, the pie!" Margaery declares.

Joffrey and her step forward towards the massive pastry and Joffrey raises Widow's Wail, bringing it down in a swift slash that releases a lot of birds and from what I can sees makes a bloody mess of the pie.

"My Queen," Joffrey offers as he holds out a fork for her to eat some pie from.

"My hero," Margaery crows and feeds him a bit of pie from a fork.

"Can we leave now?" Sansa whispered to Tyrion, her gaze flicking to me and back.

"Let’s find out," Tyrion whispered back to Sansa.

"Uncle. Where are you going? You're my cup-bearer, remember?" Joffrey asked as if Tyrion would be able to forget the humiliation.

"I thought I might change out of these wet clothes, Your Grace."

"No, no, no. No, you're perfect the way you are. Serve me my wine. Well, hurry up. This pie is dry." Tyrion hands the cup to Joffrey, who gulps at it. "Mm, good. Needs washing down."

"If it please Your Grace, Lady Sansa is very tired," Tyrion attempted to excuse himself and Sansa.

_Take me with you._

"No," Joffrey declined before coughing. "No, you'll wait here..." He cut himself off with another cough. "Un-" his words dissolved into coughs, barely disguised under his hand.

"Your Grace?" Tyrion asked.

Joffrey short of breath, took a gulp of wine to try and alleviate his coughing. "It's nothing."

"He's choking!" Margaery announced as if we couldn't see or hear.

"Help the poor boy," Olenna ordered.

Joffrey staggered away from the table, choking frantically as he clutched at his neck.

"Idiots, help your king," Olenna ordered.

"Move away!" Jaime pushed his way through the crowd and ran towards Joffrey as he collapsed, choking and vomiting. "Joffrey! Joffrey!"

He stood uselessly over the body when he arrived at his nephew-son's side.

_Someone wasn't in the books..._

"Help him! Someone help him! Joffrey!" Cersei cried.

In the confusion, the court fool had appeared behind Sansa. Leaning in, he whispered to her that I was barely able to hear over the commotion, "Come with me now."

Sansa grabbed onto my wrist and attempted to yank me out of my seat. "Not without her."

I pulled her hand off of my arm, shoving her in the fool's direction before hurrying over to the shaking body of my step-grandson.

"He's been poisoned! WAKE THE MAESTER! WHY IS THERE ONLY ONE?!" I cried out, Tywin at my side immediately.

He must have ordered something to someone as Lannister men rushed forwards, their red a burning trail in the stream of gold and white cloaked members of the Kingsguard.

"Don't touch him!" Cersei shrieked at Margaery who had only leant forwards. "Joffrey. Please, Joffrey. Joffrey, what is it? Help him!"

Joffrey's eyes flick over to me and stay there as he begins to bleed from them and his nose before going entirely limp with his last breath.

"My son... He did this! He poisoned my son, your king," she shrieked, clutching Joffrey to her breast as she glared daggers at Tyrion, pointing at him. "Take him! Take him! Take him!"

_Oh frickle... Someone's in a pickle._


	44. Pour One Out For Joffrey (Chapter 43)

"You did this!" Cersei accused Tyrion once more, the guards closing in on him. "Take him!"

Once Tyrion was shackled and dragged off, Cersei stared at the table where Tommen was frozen in his seat and all other seats were abandoned. Quietly she asked, "Where is his wife?" The next moment she once again shirked, "Where’s Sansa?"

"Find her," Tywin ordered a guard, an arm around my waist as he began to lead me away from the body. "Bar the gates of the city. Seize every ship in the harbour."

"Where is she?" Cersei asked again, shrieking.

"No one leaves the capital!" Tywin re-iterated his order, his voice almost a roar to drown out Cersei's wails.

 _That night, I could hardly sleep even after the exercise or the stress of the day. When I finally did, the light of morning had begun to leak through the_ curtains.

* * *

When I appeared before Arya and Sandor in a long peasant dress and a shawl to cover my head, there was much less hype than the first time and so we all just camped next to a pebble dashed bridge, the horses eating grass.

"Gonna rain soon," Arya commented on the bleak weather that made England seem tropical. "Where are we?"

"Near Fairmarket, I think," Sandor answered.

"You think?" I asked from my place on a rock by the stream.

"You don’t have a map?" Arya asked, hopping down until she sat at my side.

"No. Maybe we should get one. Just point out the next map shop you see, and I’ll buy you one," Sandor snarked as he dipped a bucket in the water under the bridge.

"How far is it to the Eyrie?" Arya asked.

"Far."

"And you’re sure we’re going the right way?"

"Believe me, girl, I want you there as soon as I can. Get my gold, be on my way." Sandor held the bucket for Stranger to drink out of.

"Where?"

"Oh so it's fine if you do it but when I want everyone to learn Shoop-"

"Why do you care? Might book passage across the Narrow Sea. Fight as a sell-sword. Second Sons, could be. Seems like a good fit for me."

I snorted. "Good luck with that. But if you're serious, I'll put in a word for you. That word is probably cu-"

"I’d like to see Braavos one day," Arya pondered.

"Why Braavos?" I asked, recovering quickly.

"I have friends there."

Sandor put a finger to one side of his nose, blocking the nostril before forcing something out of the other side. "I doubt it."

Before I could attempt to retch, someone above the bridge greeted us. "Seven blessings to you."

Arya attempted to block me from sight of the man and the young girl.

"What do you want?" Sandor barked.

"This is my land," the man replied.

"If I’m standing on it, it’s my land."

"Pack it in," I hissed at him. Turning to the man I apologised, "We were just watering the horses. We’ll be on our way."

As if a bright idea had struck Arya, her eyes went wide as she looked between Sandor and I before apologising herself, "Forgive my father. He was wounded fighting in the war. Our cottage burned down while he was gone, and my brother with it. Nearly took my poor mother-" she gestured to me, a sad look upon her face. "He’s never been the same."

"Which house did he fight for?" the man asked **.**

"The Tullys of Riverrun," Arya answered.

"There’s a storm coming," the man stated, obviously talking to Sandor. "You’ll be wanting a roof tonight if not for you but your wife and daughter. There’s fresh hay in the barn. And Sally here makes rabbit stew just like her mum used to do. We don’t have much, but any man that bled for House Tully is welcome to it."

* * *

The storm had come once we were safely inside and sat around the farmer's table, hands together so he could say grace.

"We ask the Father to judge us with mercy, accepting our human frailty. We ask the Mother to bless our crops, so we may feed ourselves and all who come to our door. We ask the Warrior to give us courage in these days of strife and turmoil. We ask the Maiden to protect Sally's virtue and keep it from the clutches of depravity-"

Sandor under his breath mumbled, "You going to do all seven of the fuckers?"

"Father!"

"Husband!" I turned to the farmer and bid, "Please continue."

"We ask the Smith to strengthen our hands and our backs, so we may finish the work required of us. We ask the Crone to guide us on our journey from darkness to darkness-"

"-And we ask the Stranger not to kill us in our beds tonight for no damn reason at all." Sandor seized the pot of stew and poured himself a portion.

"I’m so sorry," Arya apologised as she grabbed the bowl of stew, pouring herself a portion.

I rolled my eyes as they began to slurp from their bowls.

The man served his daughter like a civilised person with a spoon before serving himself and then offering to serve me.

"Really good," Arya complimented when she caught the farmer staring at her in slight disgust.

"Did you fight at the Twins?" the farmer asked to make conversation.

"Call that a fight?" Sandor remarked. "Slaughtering livestock more like."

"The Red Wedding, they’re calling it," the farmer stated. "Walder Frey committed sacrilege that day. He shared bread and salt with the Starks. He offered them guest right."

"Guest right don’t mean much any more."

"It means something to me," the farmer stressed. "The gods will have their vengeance. Frey will burn in the seventh hell for what he did. Things were different when Hoster Tully ruled the Riverlands. We had good years and bad years, same as anyone, but we were safe. Now with the Freys, raiders come plundering, steal our food, steal our silver. I was gonna send Sally north to stay with my brother, but the North’s no better. The whole country’s gone sour."

 _And I've done fuck all to help._ I suddenly felt sick and slowed in my eating to the point that Arya nudged me and I passed her my bowl.

"You got any ale?" Sandor asked out of the blue.

"Afraid not."

"How can a man not keep ale in his home?"

"You look like you could really swing that sword," the farmer ventured.  _This could be a new ship. "_ A real warrior with proper training. Those raiders wouldn’t stand a chance against you. How would it be if you stayed on till the new moon? I could use a man to help with the farm work. Sally does what she can, but she can’t lift a bale of hay. Your wife could help look after her whilst we work. And if any thieves came looking for easy pickings, one look at you, I bet they’d run the other way. Meaning no offence."

"What’ll you pay?" Sandor inquired.

"I don’t have much but I have hidden a bit of silver from the bandits."

"Fair wages for fair work?" Sandor asked.

"Fair wages for fair work," the man repeated in agreement.

* * *

That night I couldn't sleep so I had offered to mend any clothes for the father and daughter by candlelight, sat next to Arya as she slept.

All through the night I worked undisturbed until the next morning when I heard the farmer's daughter screaming so shrill and loud that Arya was awoken.

Hurrying out of the stable, we found the farmer lying on the ground, bleeding, whilst his daughters attempts to treat him.

She comes out of the stable and finds the farmer lying on the ground, bleeding, his daughter treats him.

The Hound takes the farmer's money pouch and walks away. Arya rushes after the Hound shouting accusingly, "What did you do?"

"Get your horse saddled," he ordered, still marching up the hill.

"You told me you weren't a thief."

"I wasn't."

"He took us in. He fed us and you..." her voice was getting fainter as she marched up the hill after him.

I didn't follow, falling to the girl's side and looked at the wound. Small and manageable, I took the needle and thread I had in my hands and began to close it.

"I do know it!" Sandor barked turning back to Arya, drawing my attention from where I was halfway done with the stitch. "He's weak. He can't protect himself. And they'll both be dead come winter. Dead men don't need silver."

"You're the worst shit in the Seven Kingdoms!"

"There's plenty worse than me. I just understand the way things are. How many Starks they got to behead before you figure it out?"

I turned away, horrified and finished the stitch. Once I was done, I advised the girl to keep him clean.

As if by magic, a few gold dragons appeared in my palm and I passed them to the girl along with the needle and thread before standing and leaving in the other direction until I came across the river and as I walked closer, it was as if the stream had dragged me in and pulled me under until I could feel nothing.

* * *

By the time I woke up, I was told the funeral would be the next day as anyone who really wanted to attend had stayed because of the wedding.

No small council meetings were called, no small clothes for me to change into either.

Only one letter awaited me;

_We march on Meereen soon. Please come._

By candlelight, I read more of the High Valyrian books I had in Tywin's rooms, my room being decorated or something, drank some more Tansy and drifted off on my desk, the words swarming in front of my eyes.

* * *

After being lent a horse, I rode with Daenerys (her hair now reaching her collar bone), dressed in Dothraki leathers under a myrish lace tunic in marigold, towards the city of Meereen, her troops alongside us.

Dismounting, I stood at Daenerys' side as we stared at the CGI... I mean, totally realistic city and massive statues, the people leaning over the top to watch.

"Are they attacking?" Daenerys asked as the heavy doors opened to allow one man on a horse to come out of the city before closing behind him.

"A single rider. A champion of Meereen," Jorah elaborated. "They want you to send your own champion against him."

The man rode out to the cheers of his people, stopping and dismounting near the white cliff.

"What is he doing?"

"I believe he means to…" Jorah trailed off with a grimace.

_Oh, he's taking the piss... literally._

Then he began shouting at us.

"He says that we’re an army of men without man parts," Missandei translated. "He claims you are no woman at all, but a man who hides his cock in his own arsehole and so is your... consort."

"Tell him that when his mother gave birth to him she-" a hand was clapped over my mouth by Jorah.

"Ignore him, Your Grace. These are meaningless words." I licked Jorah's hand and he let go to wipe off the spit on his leg, Daario's laughter dancing in the wind at his disgusted look.

"They’re not meaningless if half the city you intend to take is listening to them," I stated.

"I have something to say to the people of Meereen. First, I will need this one to be quiet." Daenerys turned back to us and asked, "Do I have a champion?"

Grey Worm stepped forwards. _"Allow me this honour, Mother of Dragons. I will not disappoint you."_

 _"You are the commander of the Unsullied,"_ Daenerys reasoned. _"I cannot risk you."_

"I'll go," I offered. "I've got nothing to lose... except my life but that's not worth much."

"No," Daenerys rejected me. "Y/N, you are sworn to stay at my side and you shall do so and your worth is far more than you can imagine."

_Really? I'm just an asshole with privileges. Worth about as much as Trump before the loan of a million dollars._

"I’ve been by your side longer than any of them, Khaleesi. Let me stand for you today as well," Jorah offered.

"You are my most trusted advisor, my most valued general, and my dearest friend. I will not gamble with your life."  _Get fucked Jorah._

Daario stepped forward but turned to me. "I was the last to join this army. I’m not a general or a member of the Queensguard or the commander of her Unsullied. My mother was a whore. I come from nothing. I will return to nothing. Let me kill this man for you, my lady, and for your queen."

"Very well," Daenerys agreed on our behalf. "You have quite an audience. Make it worth their while," she bid, walking away from him with Missandei at her side whilst I watched the man pull his long hair back from his face and sweep it behind him.

"He is very brave, Your Grace," Missandei commented in a whisper.

"Yes. Win or lose, as long as the whole city is watching."

"You sure you don’t want a horse?" I asked, watching an attendant of the other guy hand him a lance.

"Why would I want a horse?" Daario asked.

"Horses are faster than men and generally have bigger dicks so possibly more piss."

"Horses are dumber than men and you shall see." He winked at me and turned back to the champion of Meereen who had got into place.

_What is it with these people and winking? Is it like Westerosi heroine?_

Turning back, he watched nonchalantly as the horse thundered towards him.

Drawing a dagger out, he twirled it before gesturing for me to kiss it like casino dice. When I refused, he shrugged and did it himself before launching it between the horse's eyes.

The man-made unicorn keeled over, sending the guy sprawling.

In the dust that flew up, I heard the sound of metal and a gurgle.

As the dust disappeared, Daario stood victorious with a smirk that almost rivalled a Malfoy and almost made my panties wet... if I was wearing any.

The people of Meereen were clearly not happy with this as arrows were fired off. But because they're as important as Stormtroopers, they all landed in the dust at his feet.

Daario simply undid his trousers and with a cheeky wink once more, he began to piss in the sand.

_Huh. Guess he was right about the horse._

Daenerys stepped forwards, avoiding the pissy patch to declare, " _I am Daenerys... Your masters may have told you lies about me, or they... told you nothing. It does not matter. I have nothing to say to them. I speak... to you. Thank fuck for finally learning a bit of Valyrian..._ " _First, I went to Astapor. Those who were slaves in Astapor now stand behind me, free. Next I went to Yunkai. Those who were slaves in Yunkai now stand behind me, free. Now I have come to Meereen._ _I am not your enemy. Your enemy is beside you. Your enemy steals and murders your children. Your enemy has nothing for you but chains and suffering and commands. I do not bring you commands. I bring you a choice. And I bring your enemies what they deserve. Forward!"_

From the lines of her army, catapults were brought forwards.

" _Fire!"_ she ordered.

One by one, the catapults launched their ammo at the walls which were sent flying overhead into the city, shattering on the walls to reveal their contents to the slaves of the city.

_Slave collars..._

With that to think about for the slaves, we withdrew and as the horse slowly rode across the sands, I was lulled to sleep.

* * *

The next morning when I awoke it was to my lungs being squeezed as I was fitted into a corset and then slipped into an off the shoulder black gown with flared sleeves.

Standing over the body, I could only feel pity for the corpse and it's odd rock eyes.

_Joffrey, I'm sorry that you died. No one deserves to die that horribly except Hitler and other fucks like him. You were good to me, even if it was out of a weird crush..._ _I'll pour one out for you like I did for Harambe. Perhaps I'm an asshole but your death may help many people that your life couldn't. I'm sorry regardless-_

Tywin's voice as he dragged me out of my thoughts as he bluntly stated, "Your brother is dead. Do you know what that means?" Tommen hesitated in answering. "I'm not trying to trick you."

"It means I'll become king."

"Yes, you will become king. What kind of king do you think you will be?"

"A good king?" Tommen 2.0 seemed so uncertain I almost felt bad for him except I was a bit busy pitying the dead.

"I think so as well; you have the right temperament for it," Tywin complimented one grandson and slandered the other one. "But what makes a good king, hmm? What is a good king's single most important quality?""

"This is hardly the place or the time!" Cersei hissed at her father.

"For once I agree with Cersei!"

"Holiness?" Tommen asked, ignoring us.

"Baelor the Blessed was holy and pious. He built this sept. He also named a six year old boy High Septon because he thought the boy could work miracles. He ended up fasting himself into an early grave because food was of this world and this world was sinful."

"Justice?" Tommen asked.

"A good king must be just. Orys the First was just; everyone applauded his reforms, nobles and commoners alike, but he wasn't just for long. He was murdered in his sleep after less than a year by his own brother. Was that truly just of him, to abandon his subjects to an evil that he was too gullible to recognise?"

"No. What about strength?"

"Yes, strength. King Robert was strong; he won the rebellion and crushed the Targaryen dynasty," Tywin began. "And he attended three Small Council meetings in seventeen years of ruling, and he spent his time whoring, hunting and drinking until the last two killed him. So, we have a man who starves himself to death, a man who lets his own brother murder him and a man who thinks winning and ruling are the same thing. What do they all lack?"

"Wisdom?" Tommen asked.

"Yes!"

"Wisdom is what makes a good king," Tommen stated.

"Yes. But what is wisdom? Hmm?" Tywin asked. "A house with great wealth and fertile lands asks you for your protection against another house with a strong navy that could one day oppose you. How do you know which choice is wise and which is not? Any experience of treasuries and granaries? Or shipyards and soldiers?"

"No," Tommen answered.

"Of course not. A wise king knows what he knows and what he doesn't. You're young. A wise young king listens to his councilors and heeds their advice until he comes of age. And the wisest kings continue to listen to them long afterwards. Your brother was not a wise king. Your brother was not a good king. If he had been, he'd probably still be alive." Cersei stared forwards, eyes blank and almost glazed over with the tears she refused to spill as Tywin began to lead Tommen out. "Now, as the king, you will have to marry. Do you understand why?"

"A king needs a queen," Tommen answered.

"Cersei... I'm so sorry for your loss." She didn't reply. "If you need me... for anything, you can come to me." Still not recieving a reply, I followed after Tywin and Tommen, leaving Cersei with her son.

"To further the family line. Do you know how that happens?"

 _His brother is dead and you want to have the sex talk?_  

As we reached the top of the stairs, Jaime stopped Tommen to ask, "How are you?"

"I'm all right."

"You are. You will be. I'll see to that," Jaime reassured his nephew son.

_Jaime seeing to king's being alright; 0-3. Good luck with that._

 

* * *

Immediately after the funeral, after escorting Tommen to someone who would escort the future king back, instead of going to do what normal families did, Tywin had apparently arranged to meet someone in private... in a brothel.

Before I could ask why we were in a brothel, Chataya had greeted us and directed us to a room in which the door was locked behind us.

The room was filled with orange pillows and upon those pillows was a shirtless Prince of Dorne.

"Would you like to sit?" Prince Oberyn gestured to the bed on which he was sat besides and probably had more DNA than a fertility clinic.

"No thank you," Tywin answered on our behalf.

"Some wine?" Oberyn rolled backwards on the bed, climbing off of it and picking up a shoulder shawl.

"No. Thank you."

"My lady?"

"Yes, please," I accepted.

"I'm sorry about your grandson," Oberyn offered as he began to pour himself a cup.

"Are you?" Tywin asked, eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"I don't believe that a child is responsible for the sins of his father or his grandfather. An awful way to die..."

"Which way is that?"

"Are you interrogating me, Lord Tywin?" Oberyn passed me the cup of wine and returned to standing by the pitchers of wine.

"Some believe the king choked," Tywin recalled.

Oberyn shrugged. "Some believe the sky is blue because we live inside the eye of a blue-eyed giant. The king was poisoned."

"I hear you studied poisons at the Citadel," Tywin affirmed.

"I did," Oberyn confirmed. "This is why I know."

"Your hatred for my family is...rather well known." _Understatement of the century._  "You arrive in the capital, an expert in poisoning; some days later, my grandson dies of poisoning."

"Rather suspicious," Oberyn commented. "Why haven't you thrown me in a dungeon?"

"You spoke with Tyrion in this very brothel on the day you arrived. What did you discuss?"

Oberyn was clearly amused as he asked, "You think we conspired together?"

"What did you discuss?"

"The death of my sister," he stated.

"For which you blame me."

"She was _raped_ and _murdered_ by the Mountain," Oberyn stated, venom in his tone. "The Mountain follows your orders. Of course I blame you."

"I stand before you unarmed, unguarded with my wife in the same position. Should I be worried?"

"You are unarmed and unguarded because you know me better than that. I'm a man of reason; if I slit your throat today, I will be drawn and quartered tomorrow and in Dorne we do not hurt the defenseless."

"Men at war commit all kinds of crimes, without their superiors' knowledge," Tywin stated.

"So you're denying involvement in Elia's murder?" Oberyn asked as if it wasn't obvious just from knowing Tywin.

"Categorically."

Oberyn turned away and after a long pause, testified, "I would like to speak with the Mountain."

"I'm sure he would enjoy speaking with you."

"He might not enjoy it as he thinks he would."

"I could arrange for this meeting-" Tywin began to offer.

"But you want something in return," Oberyn stated.

"Everything has a price," I muttered.

Ignoring me, Tywin informed him, "There will be a trial for my son and as custom dictates, three judges will render a verdict. I will preside, Mace Tyrell will serve as the second judge and I would like you to be the third."

"Why?" Oberyn asked.

"Not long ago, the Tyrells sided with Renly Baratheon, declared themselves enemies of the throne; now they are our strongest allies-"

"Well, you made the Tyrell girl a Queen," Oberyn pointed out. "Asking me to judge at your son's trial isn't quite as tempting.

"I will also invite you to sit on the Small Council, to serve as one of the new king's principal advisors alongside my wife. Also you shall serve as Master of..."

"International Affairs," I offered.

Oberyn sips his wine, then turns around. "I never realised you had such respect for Dorne, Lord Tywin," Oberyn remarked.

"We are not Seven Kingdoms until Dorne returns to the fold. The king is dead, the Greyjoys are in open rebellion, a wildling army marches on the Wall and in the East, a Targaryen girl has three dragons. Before long, she will turn her eyes to Westeros. Only the Dornish managed to resist Aegon Targaryen and his dragons."

Oberyn grinned. "You're saying you need us? That must be hard for you to admit."

"We need each other," Tywin stated. "You help me serve justice to the King's assassins... and I will help you serve justice to Elia's."

He offered Oberyn his hand to shake which he took.

After Tywin left, I stayed behind to ask, "Lord Oberyn, if I may ask, what was your sister like?"

"Elia... Elia was gentle," Oberyn asked. "Gentle like the wings of the butterflies she used to watch from her window. But she could be fierce when it came to her children. Or sharp as a whip."

"You must love your sister dearly."

"I do," Oberyn answered. "Justice is in short supply this side of the mountains. There has been none for Elia, Aegon or Rhaenys."

"Then perhaps you could get it for her. Seven blessings," I bid before I hurried to catch up to Tywin.


	45. Elves Can Do Dark Shit (Chapter 44)

Sometimes the right thing can also feel like the wrong thing when murder's involved. Not just murder but torture and other shit.

In the Eyrie, when Tyrion needed to get free he put two men's lives in danger and admitted to horrible crimes despite being an alright guy.

Sandor's a murderer who's brother is a cunt. Enough said.

Jaime, despite his incest and murder and whatever else he had done, lost his hand.

Cersei, despite her love for her children, is punished by whatever with the death of her son and her incest crumbling before her eyes.

Ned Stark's death almost meant he killed the guys surrounding the brat King.

Robert was fat but he was kind-ish. Yet he died surrounded by people who lied as often as he drank.

Robb died because of me. I'm punished by knowing the truth of my failure and the loss of the people I found cared for me.

Even Jorah got kicked out and his father was punished... then got murdered.

But here in Essos, there seems to be some kind of line Daenerys isn't able to cross and thus isn't punished.

" _Myhsa_!" the crowd chanted, slaves free and full of affection for the one who encouraged and helped them be so. " _Mysha!"_

Daenerys' smile was deceptively warm as she waved at the adoring crowd, navigating it with the ease a royal usually would as she was flanked by Jorah and I, uncomfortably at ease despite my sudden appearance in Meereen. Her blue dress starkly resembled part of the robes the masters' were wearing and yet she stood out... as the main white person under the sun.

Finally, we reached the balcony that the people could see the leaders who housed themselves in the palace.

"Remind me, Ser Jorah, how many children did the Great Masters nail to the mileposts?" Daenerys inquired, staring out.

"One hundred and sixty three, Khaleesi," Jorah answered hesitantly, his gaze shifting between the crowd and the woman who's side he had chosen over her brother.

"Yes. That was it." She hummed with the thought and signalled to Grey Worm who nodded.

In turn the soldiers began to push and force the masters in one direction, their spears damaging anyone who protested.

The whole scene made me a bit queazy and I asked, "Daenerys, can I ask something real quick? Over there, I mean-" I pointed behind us with a jab of my thumb.

"Of course." Reluctantly, she pulled away from her people.

We stepped away from the view of the crowd, the sun beating down still and the chants of the crowd continuing as my head began to spin.

From the corner of my eye I could see the sharp spears glinting and the threads of clothing shimmering in the sunlight.

Daenerys' hair now sported braids for Meereen and Yunkai, wrapped around her medium length hair like an elvish princess.

_Yet even the elves can do dark shit..._

"Are you actually going to do that?" I asked. "You've emancipated the slaves, you've freed them. Well done. Honestly. No sarcasm intended.. But is it best to crucify these people? Yes, slavery is awful and I can't imagine their suffering but what of the masters? Not to sound like a capitalist conformist but they have lives too. They could have reasons to do these things, children to take care of, which doesn't make them justified but it may require you to give mercy-"

"I will answer injustice with injustice," she replied. Her eyes became cold despite her warm expression, her tone as icy as the North.

Her word appeared to be final as she stepped away to stare at her adoring crowd and I decided this was an all right time to succumb to the sick feeling that began to wriggle under my skin much like I knew the nails would under the masters'.

* * *

"My lord, the lady's rooms are finished," a squire informed my husband midway through the morning meal that for once I hadn't been up early enough to get up and get out. Instead, I was took shaken to eat much more than a few bites and too horrified to jump out of bed, comforting myself in the flesh of the man I shared a bed with.

Tywin simply dismissed him with a wave before turning to me.

Offering me a hand which I took, we left the table to see the rooms I knew would be connected to Tywin's.

* * *

Tywin stared at me expectantly as I stayed rooted to the spot, not exploring the new room.

"Thank you," I bid and like I was accustomed to, I lay a kiss upon Tywin's cheek near the corner of his mouth before watching him leave.

Once Tywin had done so, closing the door behind him, I finally took in the room.

Most of the furniture was white - not Lannister red and gold or Slytherin green and silver. Not even black or plain wood.

Similarly to my old rooms, the basic items were there along with more drawers as if this was more of a private closet I could visit but only return to Tywin's rooms, which I realised was the truth of the matter.

Behind one large set of drawers, a small slither of pink stood out and as I pulled the thing out from behind them, I almost dropped the ugly doll in shock when I realised who's room it was.

Backing away, I had to think of anything else to distract myse.lf

_My lesson with Bronn..._

An idea had struck me and so I sat down at the writing desk and began to write to get away from the ghost of the room;

_Dear Lady Tanda of the honourable House Stokeworth,_

_Your daughter is in need of a husband._

_May I suggest Ser Bronn of the Blackwater? He has served House Lannister for many years now and may soon be without an employer._

_As captain of the Kingsguard, he will boost your status and any court misgivings may be forgiven. Not to mention, he has served my good son for many years._

_Lady Y/N of House Lannister and Slytherin (But mostly Slytherin)_

With my letter now done, I hastened down the hall to pass it off to someone and head off to the lesson so the sea may cover the ringing in my ears.

* * *

Down at the beach, Bronn had slung some clothes to change into at me and at my barked request, turned and I hurriedly changed into comfier clothes.

Yet we didn't start until someone else appeared.

"Jaime?" I asked.

"My lady?"

"What are you doing here?" We asked in unison before turning to Bronn expectantly.

"Nah. You two will be fighting each other," Bronn informed us, taking an apple from the ground and gesturing at us with it.

"He's not got a hand!" I protested.

"She's a woman  _and_ my father's lady wife... Does my father know you're down here?" 

I could see Bronn rolling his eyes and picking up the practise swords, he slung one at each of us.

"Get on with it!"

I pick the sword up and watch as Jaime does the same.

Grasping the practise sword in hand, I eye Jaime's steady position and announce, "En garde!"

Within seconds my sword is on the ground and his sword is pointed at my neck, Jaime's arrogant smirk taunting me.

So I do the one thing I know how...

I bat the sword and run away.

As I pump my legs to run faster I can hear Jaime's footsteps slapping the ground in order to catch up to me.

"STOP RUNNING AND FIGHT!" Bronn shouted as I ran past him for the second time, the apple he was chewing spraying from his lips.

Just as I began to run out of breath, I had an idea.

Digging my heels into the dirt, I managed to still in time for Jaime's lunge to force him sailing past me and with a single tug, I make him smack himself across the face.

Of course, I barely realised the extent of his injury until he cried out and he withdrew his glove to reveal the golden hand.

"What the hell was that?" Jaime asked, clutching onto his reddened cheek.

"That was her knocking your arse to the dirt and with your own hand!" Bronn crowed, wiping his mouth with his arm.

"If you're so cheerful, why don't you two ancient fucks go ahead?" I slung the practise sword straight back at Bronn and helped Jaime up after he tightened his hand back on.

"The only ancient fuck is the one who warms your bed!" Bronn called over his shoulder as he danced away from an unannounced strike

"Do you two talk to my brother this way?" Jaime asked, landing an impressive hit on Bronn's ankle that would have sent him sprawling had he not jumped out of the way.

"All the time," Bronn confirmed and slapped Jaime's spine with the flat of his sword.

"Used to." I picked up a discarded water skin and after finding it was wine, began to drink from it as I watched.

* * *

They continued on like that for a while before Jaime was defeated and sent onto his arse.

Sat down, he reached over and took the water skin filled with wine and took a swig before passing it over Bronn and to me again.

"Do you think he did it?" Jaime asked.

I shook my head.

Bronn vocalised my thoughts, "No. Oh, he hated the little twat, sure. But who didn’t? And poison’s not his style. Or murder."

"You want to know for sure, why don’t you ask him?" Jaime asked.

Bronn watched Jaime for a few seconds before inquiring, "You haven’t been to see him yet, eh? Or you?"

I avoided his gaze, taking another swig.

"We’re done for today," Jaime insisted.

"Your brother ever tell you how I came into his service and met her?" Bronn nodded at me, swiping the water skin away from both of us.

"You stood for him in his trial by combat at the Eyrie," Jaime replied.

"Aye," Bronn confirmed. "But only when Lady Arryn demanded the trial take place that day. You were his first choice. He named you for his champion because he knew you would ride day and night to come fight for him. You gonna fight for him now?"

* * *

After changing back, we bid farewell to Bronn in order to hurry up and greet the farewell party of Tyrells fucking off back to Highgarden.

"You're fond of the wench, are you not?" Jaime asked before slipping a piece of parchment into my hand and bidding me farewell before I could get him to explain what that was about.

But before I could do that, Tywin had joined my side and despite the slight dust along the bottom of my skirt, I stood proudly besides him and greeted whoever came our way.

From the sea of Tyrells, Willas emerged, cane in hand.

"My lady, may we speak in private?" Willas requested, his gloved hands tightening on the handle of the cane so much that the leather slightly squeaked.

Despite Tywin's cold gaze, I nodded and left my husband's side to join Willas and journey through the gardens'.

* * *

Side by side we sat in silence after finding a bench tucked away somewhere. It was comfortable and as the sun began to set, I felt safe.

If I could, I would stay in this moment together.

"Y/N-"

"Willas, please. Let's just enjoy the time we have before you leave."

"I could stay if you asked me to," Willas began. "I'm sure the king has much need for falconry or refined horse breeding-"

"Just stay safe and take care. That's all I ask of you." I grabbed onto Willas' shoulder, aiming a kiss upon his cheek.

But he turned his head at the last second and my lips slipped against his for just a second before I moved away and decided to go bid farewell to someone who wouldn't ask me any awkward questions.

Yet the ghost of his warmth still lingered, the skin red hot whenever my husband's cold gaze softened upon seeing me.

* * *

Finally, I had been able to break away from Tyrells going away.

When I finally made it to the room in the white tower Jaime had invited me to, it was to Brienne leaned over a table and staring intently at the book of knights.

"Ser Jaime Lannister," Brienne read out from the book. "Knighted and named to the Kingsguard in his 16th year. At the sack of King’s Landing, murdered his king, Aerys II. Pardoned by Robert Baratheon. Thereafter known as the Kingslayer."

"It’s the duty of the Lord Commander to fill those pages," Jaime stated, his gaze wandering from the book to the sword in a rack. "And there’s still room left on mine."

Walking over to the rack, Jaime removed it and passed it to her.

Brienne examines it with a touch as light as a feather, turning the blade over in her hands. A small smile lit up her face as she said, voice just above a whisper and full of a childhood of knights and adventures, "Valyrian steel."

"Mmm. It's yours," Jaime informed her.

Brienne gaped, her gaze immediately drawn to his. "I can't accept this..."

"It was reforged from Ned Stark's sword. You'll use it to defend Ned Stark's daughter," Jaime reasoned. "You swore an oath to return the Stark girls to their mother. Lady Stark's dead. Arya's probably dead, too, but there's still a chance to find Sansa and get her somewhere safe. I’ve got something else for you."

He gestured for me to pull off the silk cloth covering the large statue and with a sharp tug, it fell to the floor to reveal a suit of armour the colour of a beetle.

As I stepped out of the way, Brienne stepped forwards and caressed the shiny metal.

"I hope I got your measurements right."

Brienne's jaw was set as she declared, "I’ll find her. For Lady Catelyn... And for you."

_YES! NOW KISS!_

Unfortunately, they didn't kiss. Instead, Jaime gazed lovingly at Brienne who stared at the armour, watching him out of the corner of her eye until he dipped his head and broke their slight staring match.

"I almost forgot. I have one more gift."

* * *

After all of that hard work, all of that walking and yes, Brienne had helped me down steps by gently leading me but after all this effort to make sure that Brienne stood by the horses and in front of the man we had brought her to meet she simply declared, "I don’t need a squire."

"Of course you do," Jaime argued.

"He’ll slow me down," Brienne stated.

"My brother owes him a debt. He’s not safe here. You’ll be keeping him from harm," Jaime reasoned.

"It’s chivalry," I attempted to back him up.

"I won’t slow you down, ser..." Podrick tried and failed to say something convincing. Noticing the glare he was receiving from everyone but Bronn, he stammered out, "My lady. I promise I’ll serve you well."

"See?" Jaime asked. "He’s a good lad. You’ll get along."

Bronn had apparently gone behind us to fetch something as he came forwards clapping a hand onto Podrick's orange cloaked shoulder.

"Compliments of Lord Tyrion." Bronn withdrew the cloth and revealed a short axe. "His axe from the Blackwater."

Podrick simply stared at it.

With a roll of his eyes, Bronn thrust it into the other man's chest.

As Podrick continued to stare at it with awe and affection, Bronn simply raised an eyebrow before asking, "What are you waiting for, a kiss? Ready the lady’s horse."

New axe in hand, he scampered off to comply.

Just as he did so, Jaime turned to Brienne. "They say the best swords have names. Any ideas?"

Brienne gazed down at the sword on her hip before locking her sapphire eyes onto his emeralds as she simply said, "Oathkeeper."

Their gaze continued and a sea of emotions flickered between them before Jaime finally bid, "Goodbye, Brienne."

After a seconds pause, she nodded and then marched over to Podrick to get onto her horse.

Yet even as they began to ride away, Jaime followed up the path, watching her.

Finally, Jaime stopped when Brienne turned back to look at him one last time.

And as they locked eyes once more, she cast her gaze downwards before setting it straight, Jaime's gaze never leaving hers until she disappeared into the sunset with Podrick whilst Bronn and I gazed on.

_They'll meet again even if I have to drag them together._


	46. Squashing Crickets (Chapter 45)

Inside Daenerys' new headquarters, at the top of the Great Pyramid, Jorah was currently giving Daenerys the rundown.

"King Joffrey Baratheon is dead. Murdered at his own wedding. And we have taken the Meereenese navy, Khaleesi."

"The Second Sons took the Meereenese navy," Daario corrected.

"Who told you to take their navy?" Daenerys asked sharply.

"No one."

"So _why_ did you do it?" Daenerys inquired.

"I heard you and your lady liked ships and I live to please~" Daario purred.

I flinched.  _The last ship I had anything to do with got set on fire._

"How many ships?" Daenerys asked.

"Ninety-three, Khaleesi."

"How many men can they carry?"

_Please don't make me do maths-_

"Ninety three hundred, not counting sailors."

"Would that be enough to take King's Landing?" Daenerys inquired.

"The Lannisters have more." _We do._ "Despite the death of King Joffrey-"

"The usurper's son," Daenerys interrupted and I took that as my chance to jump in.

"Okay despite your 8,000 unsulllied, 2,000 second sons and whatnot, even if you do go sailing into King's Landing you will just be Queen of the Ashes. Do you think if you go straight from marching into Blackwater Bay is going to help you conquer Westeros?"

"...She's right. We are not aiming to make you Queen of King's Landing only."

"What about the old houses?" Daenerys asked.

"They will flock to whichever side they think will win as they always have," Jorah explained before standing. "There's other news. From Yunkai. Without the unsullied to enforce your rule, the wise masters have retaken control of the city. They've re-enslaved the freed men who stayed behind and have sworn to take revenge against you And in Astapor, the council you installed to rule over the city has been overthrown by a butcher named Cleon who's declared himself his Imperial Majesty."

Daenerys who had been turned away ordered, "Please leave me."

Slowly everyone began to relinquish their seats.

"Not you Jorah or you my friend," she specified.

We stood and approached her side and suddenly Daenerys looked more like the young girl I had met years ago as she stated, "It appears my emancipation of Slaver's Bay isn't going quite as planned."

Softly, Jorah suggested, "You could sail for Westeros-"

"I'm going to stop you right there. You have about 10,000 men and you only recently took this city. I suggest giving Yunkai to Viserys. You know, the brother that you have? Yeah, give it to him. After all, what I've seen of Qarth seems to be doing incredibly well. Plus he has a dragon."

"Khaleesi-"

"You are right my friend. As always," she complimented before turning to Jorah and stating, "I will not sail for Westeros. I must make sure those I have freed do not slip back into their chains."

Then she turned away and looked out onto the city once more and I took this as my signal to try to wake up.

* * *

Stacked into the sept of Baelor once more, I stood shoulder to shoulder between Tywin and Cersei staring forward and wondering what was different about Tommen as the High Septon drawled on.

"...May the Warrior grant him courage and protect him in these perilous times."  _I don't think he's got a hair cut. "_ May the Smith grant him strength that he might bear this heavy burden."  _Couldn't be drugs could it?_ "And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead."  _Perhaps he's had medieval plastic surgery... wood surgery._  "In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Long may he reign!" The crown was then placed on the boy's head.

"Long may he reign!" We all called back and clapped. The only person who didn't was the boy's mother.

* * *

I had left Tywin's side, bored of being asked when I would have a baby, and went over to greet Margaery.

I should have gone earlier as Cersei approached her first and so I stayed in the shadows of that hallway.

"Your Grace?"

"There he is." Cersei's gaze lingered on her son sat on the iron throne.

"Long may he reign."

"Long may he reign," Cersei echoed.

"He sits on the Throne like he was born to it," Margaery commented.

"Yes. He wasn't, though, was he?"

"No, he wasn't..." Margaery agreed.

"You still mourn for Joffrey?" Cersei asked, placing a hand on the black shawl Margaery wore.

Margaery dodged the question. "He was my husband, my King-"

"He would have been your nightmare."

"Your Grace, I-" Margaery faltered.

"You knew exactly what he was," Cersei accused, her eyes hard. They softened as she admitted, "I did, too. You never love anything in the world the way you love your first child. It doesn't matter what they do. And what he did, it shocked me. Do you think I'm easily shocked?"

"No."

"The things he did shocked me..." Cersei took in a deep breath before continuing, "He's only a boy. A good boy, a decent boy, he always has been. Who was the last decent king, I wonder? He could be the first man to sit on that throne in fifty years to _actually_ deserve it."

"It would be some consolation, wouldn't it? For all the horror that put him there."

"He will need help if he's going to rule well," Cersei conceded.

"He has you."

_As much as those line seem to be blurred on Tywin's side of the family, I don't think that's what she meant._

"A mother is not enough. You're still interested in being Queen, I take it?"

Margaery scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief as if she isn't politically minded. "After all that's happened? It sounds strange, I know, but I haven't given any thought to it. What comes next. It would be a great honor, of course. But I will have to speak to my father about it."

"Yes, speak to your father. I'll speak to mine." Cersei's gaze flicks over Margaery's shoulder to look at me.

I give her a little wave and watch the sea of people including my husband who stands at the side of my good-grandson, my good-son on the Kingsguard who is there to make sure Tommen is 'all right' unlike Jaime who is mostly left.

"We may be faced with an alarming number of weddings soon especially if something were to happy to leave your poor lady mother a widow. I won't even know what to call you. Sister, or Mother?"

_Ooh shit._

Before I can get caught up in the bitterness Cersei's face portrayed or Margaery's smugness, I caught Emma who had been wandering through the crowd and caught my husband's eye. "I'm so exhausted. I may have to take a nap... for my health. Please make my excuses."

I fucked off regardless.

* * *

_This nap is really odd if I'm watching Arya pretend to be the Karate Kid._

"What are you doing?"

"Water dancing," Arya answered, not stilling in her sweeping and swinging of the sword like a baton.

"Water dancing?"

"Syrio Forel taught me," Arya explained proudly. 

"Alright... teach me."

* * *

I heard Sandor before I saw him, the clunking of his armour and heavy breath surprisingly loud down the hill as he hurried towards us in the middle of the clearing, the wind barely whipping about.

"The hell you doing?" Sandor barked.

"Practising," I answered for us as I tried to stop my wobbling where I had taken off my boots and was now attempting to balance on one toe in no socks because they had gotten wet.

"What, ways to die?"

"No one's gonna kill me," Arya denied, twirling with her sword aimed for an unseen foe.

"They will if you dance around like that. That's no way to fight."

"It's not _fighting,_ it's water dancing," Arya stressed.

"'Dancing?'" Sandor chuckled. "Maybe you ought to put on a dress." When Arya didn't reply he asked, "Who taught you that shite?"

"The greatest swordsman who ever lived-" she did a flip that impressed me so much I lost balance and fell against Sandor's side as Arya pointed her sword at him. "Syrio Forel, the First Sword to the Sealord of Braavos."

Sandor scoffs. "Braavos. Greasy-haired little bastard, was he? They all are."

"What do you know about anything?" Arya angrily barked at him, her sword closer to him now.

"I bet his hair's greasier than Joffrey's cunt."

"It was not!" Arya stepped closer.

"'Was?' He dead?"

"Yes!"

"How?"

"He was killed!"

"Who by?"

"Meryn Trant! That's why Ser Meryn's on my..." she trailed off at the stunned look on his face.

"Meryn Trant?" Sandor incredulously echoed. "The greatest swordsman who ever lived, killed by Meryn fucking Trant?"

"He was outnumbered!"

"Any boy whore with a sword could beat three Meryn Trants!"

Arya screwed up her face. "Syrio didn't HAVE a sword! OR armor, just a stick!"

Sarcasm dripped from Sandor's lips as she asked, "The greatest swordsman who ever lived didn't have a sword?"

His booming laugh echoed out over the hills.

"All right, you have a sword. Let's see what he taught you. Go on, do it for your Braavosi friend. Dead like all the rest of your friends."

Arya lunges at the Hound's chest with her sword, but it lodges in his armor.

He backhands her across the face, knocking her to the ground, then picks up her sword and points it at her throat.

"Your friend's dead, and Meryn Trant's not, 'cause Trant had armor. And a big fucking sword."

The Hound raises Arya's sword, looks at it for a moment, then hands it back to her.

My skin crawls as I'm dragged away from the oddly tender moment.

* * *

After a final small council meeting for the day after awakening from my nap, I joined Tywin in the main study.

This was a terrible idea as Cersei was invited too.

"When will the wedding take place in your mind?" Tywin inquired.

"As soon as decency permits," Cersei replied. "After we’ve allowed Tommen the appropriate time to mourn his brother and Margaery to mourn her husband."

"A fortnight?"

"That seems reasonable."

"No jugglers, no jousting dwarves, no seventy seven course meals," I stated.

Tywin nodded in agreement before asking his daughter, "And your wedding to Loras?"

"...Shortly after Tommen’s."

"Shortly?" Tywin echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"A fortnight."

Cersei's gaze stayed on her father and we all sat in awkward silence for a moment.

"I know you don’t like them," Tywin said in an almost reassuring tone. "I didn’t like your husband. Used to pat me on the back a lot. I didn’t trust him."

"We had that in common."

"You don’t need to make formal alliances with people you trust."

"Then whom can we trust?" Cersei asked and I could feel her gaze flick to me.

"Ourselves alone." Tywin took my hand and placed our joined hands on the table. Giving it a squeeze he stood up and walked over to the decanter he had on a table near the desk. He began to pour himself a glass as he explained,  "The Tyrells are our only true rivals in terms of resources and we need them on our side."

"Robert wasn’t particularly rich," I pointed out.

"Robert had me funding him," Tywin replied, handing Cersei the glass of wine which she gulped down. "Wars swallow gold like a pit in the earth."

"I suppose that explains why we did so well in the last one." A small smile appeared on her face.

It disappeared as Tywin turned back to her, placing a goblet for me to take before standing back and seizing his own.

"Do you know how much gold was mined in the Westerlands this past year?" Tywin asked.

"Haven’t a clue."

"No. Go on. Your best guess," Tywin urged.

Already knowing the answer thanks to my old homieship with the Master of Coin, I picked up my own glass and began to drink heavily from it.

"Pounds, tons, ounces?" Cersei guessed.. Whatever she saw in her father's face seemed to make her more unsure as her quiet voice began to decrease in volume with each guess.

"Doesn’t matter. The answer is the same."

It barely took Cersei a second to realise and pale in response. "Can’t be."

"The last working Lannister mine ran dry three years ago," I supplied, my glass now empty.

"Then how do we pay for anything?"

"The crown owes the Iron Bank of Braavos a _tremendous_ amount of money," Tywin stated.

"How much?"

"A tremendous amount," Tywin re-iterated and re-took his seat.

"There must be someone at the Iron Bank you can speak to, come to some arrangement-"

"The Iron Bank is the Iron Bank," Tywin stated. "There is no someone. Someone does work there. It is comprised of people. And a temple is comprised of stones. One stone crumbles and another takes its place. And the temple holds its form for a thousand years or more. That’s what the Iron Bank is, a temple. We all live in its shadow and almost none of us know it. You can’t run from them. You can’t cheat them. You can’t sway them with excuses. If you owe them money and you don’t want to crumble yourself, you pay it back. Vesting the Tyrells in the crown will help a great deal as well as my marriage-"

"It’s for the good of the family, I understand that," Cersei interrupted. "I’m not sure my brothers do."

"I know you’re building a strong case against Tyrion. And as a mother, that is your right. But as a judge, I cannot discuss the trial with you. Neither can my lady wife."

"I respect that. We don’t need to discuss it." Cersei stood, leaning on the desk as she began, "The Lannister legacy is the only thing that matters. You’ve started wars to protect this family. Turned your back on Jaime for refusing to contribute to its future. What does Tyrion deserve for lighting that future on fire?"

Then she walked away, her skirt fluttering behind her.

With a roll of his eyes, Tywin stood once more and moved over to the drink's table.

"Get married they said," I muttered, flicking through the drawers on the desk to find a clean piece of parchment. "It would be fine, they said. It's not like you're dealing with three brats, they said-"

"Pardon?"

"Nothing dear~ But... I have a proposal for you."

I pulled out a clean sheet and placed it on the desk.

Tywin stilled in his ministrations and almost robotic-ally placed down the pitcher before sitting down and passing me my glass of wine. "I'm listening."

"If I could secure an _arrangement_ for Jaime, would you be willing to take Tyrion's case into consideration?" I leaned forward, the chain between my breasts glinting in the sunlight.

Like a magpie, Tywin's gaze was drawn to it as he raised an eyebrow.

* * *

After many hours of  _conversation_ , Tywin fell asleep beside me and whilst drinking the tansy wine, I felt a bit melancholy.

_Perhaps it's because I haven't found a shoe large enough to squish my own Jiminy Cricket._

With a sigh, I drained the goblet and looked back at the red and gold covers with the direwolf curled up on my side despite Tywin's grievances.

Not in the mood to slip between the covers and let sleep take me just yet, I took a small lantern, a block of cheese, and a small vial of Sweet-sleep that I had in ready supply these days.

Then I felt along the wall for the door that lead into the lady of the hand's quarters.

Fun thing about the lady of the hand's quarters is that whilst I wasn't intended to sleep in them, I spent a lot of spare time exploring and getting rid of the shadows of a life I had helped destroy.

So inside I slipped in and walking past the desk, bookshelves and other furniture until I reached the beautiful tapestry Margaery had given as a gift.

In the firelight the gold in it reflected heavily and if I wasn't careful, the cloth would ignite as it appeared to; a blend of a majority of the green of the Reach and streams of crimson that ran through and up the designs.

Pulling it aside, I revealed the door to myself.

From a pocket in my dressing gown (Lannister Red of course) I withdrew a key and unlocked the door. As it creaked open, I watched the stairs and began to make my way down the very same steps I had helped Arya escape out of once upon a time.

* * *

My time in King's Landing had allowed me to learn the tricks and secrets of the place, even the door to the brothel in my husband's room that had had cobwebs stuck to it's frame the last time I checked. One of these secrets was the path past the Targaryen dragon skulls that marked the way to the cells.

Staying in the shadows, I guided myself to the cell I knew was Tyrion's. The cell that I had walked past so many nights but couldn't bring myself to enter.

Being wife of the Hand was incredibly helpful as I didn't even need to ask before the door was unlocked for me and I was allowed inside.

The stench hit me first - raw sewage and the filth that attracted the rats.

Inside, only a small torch had been lit and another was lit for me to see my way into the darkness.

Then I was alone with the figure curled up in the corner, his bronze hair a shocking sight compared to the gold I remembered from what must now be my youth.

"Tyrion..." I managed to gasp out and almost felt my legs give out under me when his face turned to me and I could see the grime and unkempt that no Lannister ever seemed to have except for Jaime.

"Y/N... Well I suppose my Lady Slytherin or Mother is better isn't it?" Tyrion asked and before I could say anything, such as 'please don't call me that', he inquired, "My father has warned you what I did to the last one?"

I ignored him to ask about what had caused the gap between us. "Do you know what they planned to do with the direwolf that now follows your father wherever he goes?"

"No," Tyrion answered. "Should I?"

"I have way too much free time these days now that I can't travel at leisure so I hear lots of rumours when I have to sit and sew. One was that they were going to sew it's head onto the King in the North's body. Another was that they were going to bring back their heads for Joffrey's wedding... Or they would have cut it off and stitched it onto Robb Stark's body if he hadn't been in a boat headed for Qarth, a separate boat containing the direwolf."

"I did not... But how could you..." Tyrion cut himself off, eyes growing wide with realisation.

"I figured I might as well tell someone that I tried. Makes no difference in the end, does it?"

"No. I suppose not."

"Oh, I brought you this-" I pulled out the block of cheese and the vial, handing them over to his waiting hands. "Figured you'd need the stuff in order to sleep on this floor."

"...Thank you."

I stood, brushing my dressing gown off and walked over to the door.

Rapping it with my knuckles, I turned back to say, "For what it's worth, I don't believe you killed Joffrey. I'm willing to put my own life on it."

Then I was gone, knowing I would sleep easier now.

* * *

So much information had been thrown at me as I appeared with the small group of the Night's Watch dressed in my 'Dick' outfit that I barely registered anything until we stopped in front of Craster's Keep.

Nothing really registered then either until I had blood on my gloves, a sword in my hand that had pierced a man's jaw.

The only thing I could focus on was Jon leaving the shack and leading a wildling woman out.

_God there's not enough wine in Westeros to make me forget this horrible experience._

* * *

"Here’s another, Jon," one of the Night's Watch called out, kicking his way through dead bodies.

But Jon's focus was elsewhere... not on me but something white that peeked through the treeline.

"Where in seven hells? Come here," Jon ordered. Kneeling in the snow, we greeted the direwolf that was as tall as Jon on his knees. "I missed you, boy." Jon affectionately stroked his direwolf.

"And what am I? Chopped liver?"

He could only let out a small laugh in response.

Edd stepped away from his group to ask Jon, pointing to the women,"What should we do with this lot?"

Jon stood and Ghost walked in between us as we approached the huddled group of Craster's daughter-wives.

"It’s not safe for you here on your own. Mance Rayder has an army heading this way and there’s worse out there than Mance," Jon informed them before offering, "Come with us to Castle Black. We can find you work."

"Keep you safe," I offered.

"Meaning all respect, ser crow, lady crow... Craster beat us and worse. Your brother crows beat us and worse. We’ll find our own way."

"You want to stay here?" I asked.

"In Craster’s Keep?"

The woman who had spoken turned to glare at her previous prison before demanding, "Burn it to the ground and all the dead with it."

And as the fire burned in the background, I felt myself lift away with the smoke.


	47. Politics. Yay (Chapter 46)

The morning of Tyrion's trial I had been dressed for the war path in a deep crimson gown that gave me a broad shouldered stance, a wide golden belt and gold detailing on the lapels.

On Tywin's arm, I walked down the corridor towards the small council chamber with Grey Wind trotting behind us.

Just before we entered I could hear Oberyn complain, "These meetings aren't always going to be this early, are they? I was up late last night. So, does this mean I am a master of something now? Coins, ships?"

"Lord Tywin and I already determined that I shall be the Master of Ships long before you..." Mace began.

Tywin and I enter whilst and everybody but Oberyn stands up.

Where Mace had been sat in on the immediate right of Tywin, I had no seat except further down the table and as advisor and his wife, I probably deserved higher.

Slowly Mace left the seat after Tywin's glare had gotten to be too much for the fat man.

Tywin pulls out the seat that Mace vacated and I sit in it, watching as he takes his own.

"Lord Tywin, it's a great honour to have been granted a seat on this council. I..." Mace began to blubber.

"The trial begins this afternoon. We only have the morning for affairs of state. Shall we begin?" Tywin asked rhetorically, ignoring Mace.

"Sandor Clegane has been spotted in the Riverlands, my lord-"

"A coward and a traitor," Cersei muttered.

"-My birds tell me the Hound slaughtered five of our soldiers. I believe the phrase 'Fuck the King' was uttered."

I could hardly stop the laugh that bubbled up but I did in time to hear Pycelle say, "Disgraceful **."**

"What would it take to make the common soldier stupid enough to try his luck with the Hound?"

"10 Silver stags seems a generous bounty-" Varys began to suggest.

"Make it 100. What else?"

"More whispers from the east, my lord."

"The Targaryen girl? Or her brother?" Tywin inquired.

"Daenerys has taken up residence in Meereen. She has conquered the city and rules as its queen."

"Conquered with what?" Cersei inquired.

"She commands an army of Unsullied, my queen. Some 8,000 strong. She has a company of sellswords, the Second Sons. She has one knight advising her; Jorah Mormont. She has an advisor we can't seem to find or name. And she has two dragons," Varys summarised.

"Baby dragons," Cersei corrected.

"Larger every year," I stated.

Thank fuck for Pycelle being loyal to House Lannister as she quickly recovered and stated, "Mormont is spying on her for us."

_Oh shit. Memo to me: write a letter to myself._

"No longer. He appears to be fully devoted to her. As for Ser Barristan, it would seem he took his dismissal from the Kingsguard a bit harder than anticipated and fled to Qarth to serve Viserys."

"He's an old man. He wasn't fit to protect my son!"

"Joffrey didn't die on his watch. Dismissing him was as insulting as it was stupid," Tywin scolded.

"Don't tell me you're worried about a child, halfway across the world," Cersei sneered.

"A child with a seasoned warrior at her back, a brother who has the same... and a powerful army at her back, Your Grace."

"Lord Varys is right," Oberyn chimed in, done with drumming his fingers against the table. "I have been to Essos and seen the Unsullied firsthand. They are very impressive on the battlefield. Less so in the bedroom."

"Dragons haven't won a war in 300 years. Armies win them all the time. She must be dealt with."

"How, my lord?" Pycelle asked. "By force?"

"Eventually, if it comes to that. Can your little birds find their way into Mereen?" Tywin asked Varys.

"Most certainly, my Lord Hand."

"Mmm." Tywin leaned in his chair to look at Mace down the table. "Lord Tyrell, be a good man. Fetch my quill and paper."

Clearly delighted, he did so with total arrogance that made even Pycelle, who I knew played up the act of old man, slightly rolled his eyes.

_Oh boy is this going to take longer. I should have brought snacks._

* * *

Tyrion, barely cleaned up with still bronze hair, was escorted into the room to calls of Kingslayer and then locked into the booth.

Tommen stood from the iron throne, along with everyone else, to declare, "I, Tommen of the House Baratheon, First of my Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, do hereby recuse myself from this trial. Tywin of the House Lannister, Hand of the King, Protector of the Realm, will sit as judge in my stead. And with him Prince Oberyn of the House Martell, Lord Mace of the House Tyrell and Lady Y/N L/N of the Houses Lannister and Slytherin. And if found guilty, may the gods punish the accused." Taking his crown off, he passed it to a guard and left.

I took the seat between the throne and Oberyn.

Tywin took the throne as if he was born to it and the cocky fucker leaned back in it like the God of Mischief pretending to be Odin. "Tyrion of the House Lannister, you stand accused by the Queen Regent of regicide. Did you kill King Joffrey?" Tywin asked Tyrion.

"No."

"Did your wife, the Lady Sansa?"

"Not that I know of."

"How would you say he died, then?"

Tyrion shrugged and his manacles rattled in turn. "Choked on his pigeon pie."

"So you would blame the bakers?" I asked.

"Or the pigeons. Just leave me out of it."

Tywin sighed before gesturing for the goldcloak to call, "The crown may call its first witness."

* * *

The first witness turned out to be Ser Meryn fucking Trant.

"Once we’d got King Joffrey safely away from the mob, the Imp rounded on him. He slapped the king across the face and called him a vicious idiot and a fool. It wasn’t the first time the Imp threatened Joffrey. Right here in this throne room, he marched up those steps and called our king a halfwit. Compared His Grace to the Mad King and suggested he’d meet the same fate. And when I spoke in the king’s defence, he threatened to have me killed."

"Oh, why don’t you tell them what Joffrey was doing?" I asked before Tyrion could. **  
**

Silence echoed through the hall.

Tyrion cut through it like he had the Valyrian steel blade. Pointing a loaded crossbow at Sansa Stark while you tore at her clothes and beat her."

"Silence!" Tywin ordered. "You will not speak unless called upon. You’re dismissed, Ser Meryn."

* * *

“Basilisk venom, widow’s blood, wolfsbane, essence of nightshade, sweetsleep, tears of Lys, demon’s dance… blindeye…" Pycelle had been the next witness and was listing poisons he pulled from his robes.

"I think you have made your point, Grand Maester," Oberyn interrupted. "You have a lot of poison in your store."

"Had, Prince Oberyn," Pycelle corrected. "My stores were plundered."

"By whom?" Tywin inquired.

"By the accused, Tyrion Lannister, after he had me wrongfully imprisoned," Pycelle accused.

"Grand Maester, you examined King Joffrey’s corpse. Was it without question poison that killed him?"

"Without question, Pycelle confirmed before pulling out an art-deco necklace Sansa had worn at Joffrey's wedding. "This was found on the body of Dontos Hollard, the king’s fool. He was last seen spiriting Sansa Stark, the wife of the accused, away from the feast. She wore this necklace the day of the wedding. Residue of the most rare and terrible poison was found inside."

"Was this one of the poisons stolen from your store?"

"It was," Pycelle answered. "The strangler. A poison few in the Seven Kingdoms possess. And used to strike down the most noble child the gods ever put on this good earth."

I rolled my eyes.

* * *

Cersei was up next to complain. "'I will hurt you for this. A day will come when you think you are safe and happy and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth and you will know the debt is paid.'"

”Your own brother said this to you?" Mace asked.

"Shortly before the Battle of Blackwater Bay," Cersei answered, tears in her eyes that threatened to leak into different directions like her braids. "I confronted him about his plans to put Joffrey on the front lines. As it turned out, when the attack came, Joff insisted on remaining at the battlements. He believed his presence would inspire the troops."

"Tyrion said, 'And you will know the debt is paid.' What debt?" Oberyn inquired.

"I discovered he’d been keeping whores in the Tower of the Hand. I asked him to confine his salacious acts to the brothel where such behaviour belongs. He wasn’t pleased."

"Thank you, Your Grace, for the courage of your testimony," Mace bid.

Cersei swiftly left and reclaimed her seat next to other nobles by the judges.

* * *

"Do you remember the precise nature of this threat?" Mace asked Varys.

"I’m afraid I do, my lord. He said, 'Perhaps you should speak more softly to me, then. Monsters are dangerous and just now kings are dying like flies.'"

"And he said this to you at a meeting of the Small Council?" Mace inquired.

"Yes. After we received word of Robb Stark’s death. He didn’t seem gladdened by the news. Perhaps his marriage to Sansa Stark had made him more sympathetic to the northern cause."

"You’re excused, Lord Varys," Tywin bid and with a bow he began to leave.

"Father, may I ask the witness one question?" Tyrion requested.

"One..." Tywin conceded.

"You once said that without me, this city would have faced certain defeat. You said the histories would never mention me, but you would not forget. Have you forgotten, Lord Varys?"

"Sadly, my lord, I never forget a thing." Varys bowed once more and left.

"We will adjourn for now." Tywin and I stood with him taking my arm. "Toll the bells in an hour’s time."

"Clear the court!"

* * *

"You'd condemn your own son to death?" was the first thing Jaime asked when he stormed into the room Tywin was attempting to convince me to eat but the whole thing made my stomach hurt.

"I've condemned no one. The trial is not over."

"This isn't a trial, it's a farce! Cersei has manipulated everything and you know it!" Jaime accused.

"I know nothing of the sort," Tywin denied.

"You've always hated Tyrion!"

"He killed his king-" Tywin attempted to deny.

"As did I! Do you know the last order the Mad King gave me? To bring him your head! I saved your life so you could murder my brother?"

"It won't be murder, it will be justice," Tywin corrected.

"Justice?!" Jaime echoed in disbelief.

"I'm performing my sworn duty as Hand of the King. If Tyrion is found guilty, he will be punished accordingly."

"He'll be executed," Jaime stated.

"No, he'll be punished accordingly!" Tywin corrected, snapping.

"Once, you said family is what lives on. All that lives on. You told me about a dynasty that would last 1000 years. What happens to your dynasty when Tyrion dies? I'm a Kingsguard, forbidden by oath to carry on the family line-"

"I'm well aware of your oath," Tywin evenly responded.

"What happens to your name? Who carries the lion banner into future battles? Your nephews? Lancel Lannister? Others whose names I don't even remember? A son that she-" he pointed to me. "-hasn't begun to carry?"

"What happens to my dynasty if I spare the life of my grandson's killer?"

"It survives...through me." Tywin is visibly shook at Jaime's declaration. So am I. "I'll leave the Kingsguard, I'll take my place as your son and heir if you let Tyrion live."

"Done." Jaime is stunned. _"_ When the testimony is concluded and the guilty verdict rendered, Tyrion will be given the chance to speak. He'll plead for mercy, I'll allow him to join the Night's Watch. In three days times, he'll depart for Castle Black and live out his days at the Wall. You'll remove your white cloak immediately. You will leave King's Landing to assume your rightful place at Casterly Rock. You will marry a suitable woman, and father children named 'Lannister'. And you'll never turn your back on your family again."

Jaime didn't even hesitate before agreeing, a testimony to his devotion to his brother. "You have my word."

"And you have mine. As for your marriage to a suitable woman, I have already picked one." Jaime was visibly shook. "Lady Brienne of Tarth-"

"The wench?"

"Lady Tarth is the only heir to the Sapphire Isles and the ancient seat of Evenfall Hall. Her father Selwyn has already been contacted and an agreement should be along soon-

Jaime turned and flounced away without hearing the end of Tywin's words.

As the door slammed behind him I could only hear Tywin grumble about his sons being what he didn't deserve.

"Tywin. Stop."

He didn't look up from where he was sat, head in hands.

With a sigh, I sat on the desk in front of him, a gentle hand on his shoulder as I began, "Tyrion may not be what you wanted but he's your son no matter how much you treat him like he's not. After all, how can he be anything else? What with his cunning and wit but despite that... He drinks to numb the pain of your rejection. He whores about to get your attention and yet when you gave him the position of Master of Coin, he flourished. He lead the siege of Blackwater. If it weren't for him, the whole city would have been up in flames before you had got here. Your son may not be what you wanted but is anyone? Just... give him a chance if he's found not guilty. Please... even if it's just for me."

Tywin lifted his head out of his hands, bringing my hand to his face to cradle his cheek before laying a kiss upon my wrist.

"Now, come. Let's get this over with."

* * *

"The crown may call it's next witness," a gold cloak called.

Knowing it was finally my turn, I stepped up to the plate.

"State your name," Tywin ordered me.

I raised an eyebrow as I answered, "Y/N L/N; founder of House Slytherin and your lady wife."

"Do you swear by all the gods that your testimony will be true and honest?" Tywin asked.

"Yes. I do solemnly swear."

"Do you know this man?" Mace asked.

"Who? Tyrion Lannister? My good son and long time friend? Master of Coin who served on the Small Council with me?" Tywin gestured for me to elaborate. "Of course I do."

"You've already answered how you know him. Do you know anything in regards to his crime?"

"Just one thing - that he's not guilty."

The crowd began to whisper and I saw out of the corner of my eye Tyrion's head lift to watch me.

"Please, elaborate," Oberyn asked.

"Tyrion is many things but a killer isn't one of them. Do you know who was a killer? Joffrey." The crowd's whispers began to get louder. "One night, Tyrion gifted his nephew two whores and he killed one whilst brutally abusing the other. Perhaps they were only whores but if Joffrey truly was the most noble child, he would have had the sense to treat them with respect even if that respect was for his uncle. Besides that, comparison to the Mad King is not a crime."

"But assaulting the king?" Mace asked.

"Well then the kings-guard were _clearly_ not doing their jobs, big surprise there, and even if they had stopped the assault of the king, it seems it's perfectly acceptable to allow the king to have his betrothed stripped and beaten in court. Or perhaps the times he made Sansa stand on the ramparts and stare at her father and septa's head, promising her her brother's. I don't wish to speak ill of the dead but after all, Cersei, even you conceded that you knew that Joffrey would have been a 'nightmare' as you put it to Lady Margaery." 

As she opened her mouth I cut in once more.

"Besides, if Tyrion had wanted to kill Joffrey or if any of his immediate family had wanted to, why on his wedding day? They could have done it at my wedding or even Tyrion's-"

"Yet on Tyrion's wedding day he threatened to dismember Joffrey-" Cersei attempted to argue.

"After he threatened to rape Sansa-"

"Silence!" Tywin ordered. "Thank you for your testimony. You are dismissed."

With a tight lipped smile, I curtsied and walked out of the booth to re-take my seat.

As I sat down, I heard the call again of, "The crown may call its next witness."

I felt the wind being slammed out of my body as Shae stepped forwards, up to the witness stand.

"State your name," Tywin ordered.

"Shae."

"Do you swear by all the gods that your testimony will be true and honest?" Tywin asked.

"I swear it."

"Do you know this man?"

"Yes. Tyrion Lannister," she answered.

"How do you know him?"

"I was handmaiden to his wife Lady Sansa."

"This man stands accused of murdering King Joffrey. What do you know of this?"

"I know that he’s guilty," Shae accused and I felt the wood threaten to splinter under my hard grasp. "He and Sansa planned it together."

The crowd began to gasp in horror.

"Silence!" They complied because it's Tywin. "Continue."

"She wanted revenge for her father, her mother, her brother. She blamed their deaths on the king. Tyrion was happy to help. He hated Joffrey. He hated the queen. He hated you, my lord. He wanted your wife. He stole poison from the Grand Maester’s chamber to put in Joffrey’s wine."

"How could you possibly know all this?" I asked, hoping for a loophole.

"Why would he reveal such plans to his wife’s maid?"

"I wasn’t just her maid... I was his whore," Shae revealed.

"I beg your pardon? You said you were his…" Mace couldn't finish.

"His whore."

"How did you come to be in his service?" Tywin inquired.

"He stole me," Shae stated. "I was with another man, a knight in your lordship’s army. But when Tyrion arrived at the camp, he sent one of his cutthroats into our tent. He broke the knight’s arm and brought me to Lord Tyrion. 'You belong to me now,' he said. 'I want you to fuck me like it’s my last night in this world.'"

The crowd began to howl with cruel laughter and I had to close my eyes, tears beginning to build up as Tyrion's public humiliation was seared upon my soul.

"Silence!" Tywin called once more.

"And did you?" Oberyn asked with a smirk.

"Did I what?"

"Fuck him like it was his last night in this world?"

"I did everything he wanted. Whatever he told me to do to him. Whatever he felt like doing to me. I kissed him where he wanted. I licked him where he wanted. I let him put himself where he wanted. I was his property. I would wait in his chambers for hours so he could use me when he was bored. He ordered me to call him 'my lion,' so I did. I took his face in my hands and said, 'I am yours and you are mine.'"

Ah, yes. A contender for biggest cunt.

"Shae," Tyrion croaked out, his head bowed in shame. "Please don’t," he begged.

Shae turned to him. "I am a whore. Remember?" _YEAH GO BACK TO YOUR HOME ON WHORE ISLAND THEN!_ "That was before he married Sansa. After that, all he wanted was her or..." her gaze landed on me and I could see Tywin's jaw tick. "But she wouldn’t let him into her bed. So he promised to kill King Joffrey for her."

The crowd's gasps began to taper off and I could only watch Tyrion.

Now a broken man, perhaps broken worse than Tysha, Tyrion managed to croak out, "Father... I wish to confess." Steeling himself he managed to declare, "I wish to confess."

"You wish to confess?" Tywin attempted to confer.

Tyrion ignored him to turn on the crowd. "I saved you. I saved this city and all your worthless lives! I should have let Stannis kill you all!"

"Tyrion! Do you wish to confess?"

"Yes... Father. I'm guilty. Guilty! Is that what you want to hear?"

"You admit you've poisoned the King?"

"No. Of that, I'm innocent like Lady Y/N said. I'm guilty of a far more monstrous crime. I'm guilty of being a dwarf!" Tyrion declared.

"You are not on trial for being a dwarf," Tywin stated, almost laughing.

"Oh, yes I am!" Tyrion argued. "I've been on trial for that my entire life!"

"Have you nothing to say on your defense?"

"Nothing but this: I did not do it," Tyrion began, malice in his tone. "I did not kill Joffrey, but I WISH THAT I HAD! Watching your vicious bastard die gave me more relief than a thousand lying whores! I wish I was the monster you think I am. I wish I had enough poison for the whole pack of you. I would gladly give my life to WATCH YOU ALL SWALLOW IT!"

The entire crowd roars with outrage and I can only watch in horror and disappointment.

"Ser Meryn! Ser Meryn, escort the prisoner back to his cell!"

"I will NOT give my life for Joffrey's murder, and I know I'll get no justice here, so I will let the gods decide my fate. I demand a trial by combat," Tyrion roared.

* * *

That night I had to take essence of nightshade to help me sleep and I felt the effects when I appeared by the moon door, unable to move from my spot between the open hole in the floor and the opening door revealing a tall dark haired girl.

"You wanted to see me, Aunt Lysa?" she called.

"Come here, Sansa." Now that I looked at the girl, I saw that beneath the dark hair she was Sansa. "Do you know how far the fall is?"

"No."

"Neither do I, precisely. Hundreds of feet. It's fascinating what happens to bodies when they hit the rocks from such a height. The impact breaks them right apart. Like eggs dropped on the floor. Sometimes pieces remain intact. You'll find the head sitting on its own. Every hair in place. Blue eyes staring at nothing." She paused before accusing, voice as cold as the air that began to whip through the Moon Door, "I know what you did."

"I'm so sorry, Aunt Lysa. I never should have hit Robin, I know it. I promise it won't happen..." Sansa began to apologise.

"Don't be coy with me, you little whore. You kissed him. You kissed Petyr," Lysa accused.

"I didn't. You don't understand-"

"I saw you. You can't lie to me because I saw it with my own eyes!"

"He kissed me. I pulled away," Sansa sobbed, trying to wrench herself out of her aunt's clutches, her now dark hair like a noose in her aunt's claws.

"Liar!" Lysa growls, grabbing Sansa by her hair and hold her over the Moon Door. "Whore! He is mine! My father, my husband, my sister, they all stood between us and now they're all dead. That's what happens to people who stand between Petyr and me. Look down! Look down! Look down! Look down!"

The doors swung open behind them and Petyr stepped through. "Lysa! Let her go."

Lysa snapped her head over to Petyr, barely paying attention to the girl who she was currently trying to push their head down like a bully pushing a kid's head down a toilet. "You want her? This empty-headed child?" 

"Let her go," Petyr ordered once more.

"She's just like her mother," Lysa snarled. "She'll never love you. I lied for you. I killed for you. Why did you bring her here? Why?"

"I'll send her away. I swear on my life. I swear to all the gods. Let her go, Lysa," Petyr ordered.

Lysa releases Sansa almost immediately because Petyr had said so.

"Oh, my sweet wife," Petyr softly cooed. "My sweet, silly wife." Littlefinger pulls Lysa on her feet _."_ I have only loved one woman... only one, my entire life. "Lysa smiles. It falls when he declares, "Your sister."

Baelish shoves her out of the Moon Door; she plummets to her death, screaming.

 _Here he is. The biggest douche in the universe!_   _In all the galaxies, there's no bigger douche than you! You've reached the top, the pinnacle of douchedom! Good going, douche. Your dreams have come true!_

"Y/N?"

"Wait, you heard me?"

Only when she ripped herself out of Petyr's clutches and flung her arms around me did I feel myself move, staggering back to catch her.

Over Sansa's shoulder I watched Petyr glare at me colder than the North.

I could only smirk.


	48. DEATH DEATH AND MORE DEATH (Chapter 47)

Sitting in front of Sandor on a horse is better now I'm not crammed between him and Arya but his hard metal chest plate and their lack of washing makes it difficult not to squirm away.

After what seemed like ages of travelling through marshes and fog without finding the real Shrek, we stopped at a line of trees that showed a small hut through them.

"Could be food," Sandor stated.

"Could be soldiers."

_Of course that doesn't matter to them._

* * *

One massive fight I was no way involved in later, I was proven right as basically all of the men were dead.

Hooray.

Outside once more, we came across an over-turned cabbage barrow and a man clutching his bleeding stomach.

"You shouldn’t be sitting out here like this." Aray sheathed her sword.

"Where else to sit? Tried to walk back to me hut, hurt too much. Then I remembered they burned me hut down," the man remarked.

"Who were 'they'?"

"I stopped asking a while ago."

"That’s not going to get better," I pointed out and Sandor knelt next to him as if to confirm it.

"Doesn’t seem so."

"A bad way to go," Sandor said.  "Haven’t you had enough?"

"Of what?" The man took a few seconds, I blame it on the blood loss, before he twigged. "I know. Time to go. Take matters into me own hands. The thought has occurred to me."

"So why go on?" Arya asked, kneeling next to him as Sandor stood.

"Habit," the man grumbled out.

"Nothing could be worse than this."

"Maybe nothing _is_ worse than this."

"Nothing isn’t better or worse than anything. Nothing is just nothing."

The man paused before looking at teh girl and squinting in concentration. "Who are you?"

"My name is Arya. Arya Stark."

I could sense the tension in Sandor even when I was making the effort to stand.

"You her father and mother?" the dying man asked and if it wasn't so bleak, I would have laughed.

"Her captor and she's just a-"

"-Friend," I cut in.

"Bringing her to her aunt for ransom," Sandor finished answering.

The man bobbed his head. "A fair exchange, that is. Always held to the notion of fair exchange in all my dealings. You give me, I give you. Fair. A balance. No balance any more." The man groaned before requesting, "Could I have a drink? Dying is thirsty work."

Sandor knelt once more with his wine skin, lifting it to the man's lips so he could drink.

When he withdrew he remarked, "Wish it were wine."

"So do I." Then Sandor stabbed the guy to put him out of his misery.

Sandor stood, wiping his blade on the dead man's arm as he stated. "That’s where the heart is. That’s how you kill a man."

Suddenly, Sandor roared and turning to him I saw a smaller guy had latched onto his neck like a Twilight reject.

Reaching around, Sandor broke the guy's neck and threw his body to the ground.

Clutching his neck, he turned as we all did to a man standing behind us.

"The fuck you doing?" Sandor barked.

"There’s a price on your head."

"Guess that’s what the king does when you tell him to fuck off," Sandor grumbled, his hand not completely stemming the blood.

"The king’s dead," the filthy soon to be dead guy informed them and judging by the shock on their faces when they looked at each other and me, Sandor and Arya hadn't known. "He drank poisoned wine at his own wedding. The bounty on you is for killing Lannister soldiers. A hundred silver stags."

"And you thought you were going to collect it?" Sandor scoffed. "Didn’t think very hard, did you?"

"You were Yoren’s prisoners when he was taking me to the Wall. He told me he’d fuck me bloody with a stick," Arya spat, steeping closer.

"This day’s really not working out the way you planned. He on your little list?" Sandor asked mockingly.

"He can’t be. I don’t know his name."

"What’s your name?" Sandor inquired to the guy.

"Rorge," the guy answered.

"Thank you." In a flash, Arya had grabbed Needle from it's sheath and thrust it through Rorge's tit.

The guy dramatically stumbled to the dirt and 

"You’re learning," Sandor complimented and began to walk away.

"What about your neck?" I called after him.

* * *

Standing behind the rock Sandor sat on, attempting to prod it with a needle I could only wince at the wound. "This looks fucking infected, Sandy. Have we got any anti-bacterial or just cauterizing the wound with fire-"

"No fire!"

"The wound is going to fester-" Arya began.

"Shut up about it. About everything," Sandor barked. "Thanks to you, I’m a walking bag of silver anywhere the Lannisters hold sway. Which is everywhere between where we are now and where we’re going. I’m as stupid as that hog you stuck back in the village, getting myself cut and stabbed and bitten. No reward is worth this much trouble. Wish I’d never laid eyes on you. And you!"

I managed to yank the needle away before he turned, glaring at me.

"Sandor I have a needle near your open wound. Don't start with me."

He looked away.

After some grumbling, he turned to Arya and said, "You say your brother gave you that sword..." Gesturing to his scar he stated, "My brother gave me this. It was just like you said a while back. Pressed me to the fire like I was a nice juicy mutton chop."

"Why?" she asked, slowly cleaning her sword but watching him.

"Thought I stole one of his toys; a little wooden knight. The one that he had been given for the Holiday of the Smith. I didn’t steal it. I was just playing with it whilst he was out. The pain was bad. The smell was worse - the wine, the burning flesh..." Sandor shrugged his shoulder with a wince, his shoulder recovered by his short before letting out a small sigh. "But the worst thing was that it was my brother who did it. My father, who protected him, told everyone my bedding caught fire. You think you’re on your own?"

"Let me wash it out and help you sew it up at least," Arya offered, approaching with a small wine skin.

Sitting at his side, I took his large paw-like hand in mine and we sat in silence as Arya began to help clean it.

* * *

After receiving an invitation from Cersei this early in the morning without shaky handwriting, I knew it wasn't simply a social call filled with drinking.

Wary as I was, I took two Lannister guards with me to find her.

"Mother~" Cersei greeted, bringing me over to her side at a small hole in the wall that stared into a dirt training yard.

"Cersei," I greeted back cordially despite the chill crawling under my skin.

"I was wondering if you would like to come with me to greet one of  _our_  men." Her gaze drew down into the dirt yard below at the hulking figure of the Mountain.

I had to swallow as he pierced a man through, raising him like a flag on a pole with a roar.

Cersei leaned close to me and I could feel her gaze never left him as she added, "If I recall, you were... fond of his brother."

Yet with our arms linked she began to lead me down the staircase to meet him.

Each step barely echoed compared to the screams of dying men and slashing metal, the dull thud of a body hitting the ground and the squelch of stepping in the blood that splattered the lower steps.

The squelching increase as we walked, her arm trapping mine, and passed through the man-made valley of death, the blood-soaked floor nothing compared to the splatters covering Gregor's skin.

"Thank you for riding here so quickly," Cersei greeted amicably. "You seem to be in good form."

"Who am I fighting?" Gregor asked.

"Does it matter?"

The cruel smirk Cersei wore made his simple shaking of the head haunt me through the rest of the day.

* * *

Turning up in Daenerys' palace, there was no time for fun as I was called to the massive throne room to stand at Daenerys' side facing Jorah who knelt below her.

Before I could ask why I was here instead of getting pissed in an exotic country, she inquired to Jorah, "Why did the Usurper pardon you?"

"If we could speak alone..." His eyes shifted to me and then anyone else in the hall, attempting to take a step closer.

"No. Speak to me here. Explain it to me," she ordered.

 ** _"_** Who do you think sent this to Meereen?" Jorah asked, changing the topic. "Who profits? This is the work of Tywin Lannister! He wants to divide us! If we're fighting each other, we're not fighting him."

"The pardon was signed the year we met. Why were you pardoned? Unless you're saying this document was forged?" she inquired, the knowledge behind it.

"It is not forged," Jorah admitted.

"Why then?"

"I sent letters to Varys; the spymaster of King's Landing," Jorah elaborated.

"What was the content of these letters?"

"Information."

 _"What_ information?"

"When you and Viserys arrived in Pentos. His plan to marry you to Khal Drogo. When you were married. When your brother was sent away..." Jorah admitted, trailing off as if he couldn't fathom what he had done.

"You told them I was carrying Drogo's child?" Daenerys inquired, almost as silent as the throne room was.

"I..."

"Yes or no?"

_"Khaleesi-"_

_"Don't_ call me that. Did you tell them I was carrying Drogo's child?"

Jorah closed his eyes before letting the word slip from his lips; "Yes."

"That wine merchant tried to poison me because of your information. My friend saved my life and yet Y/N didn't know it was poisoned... but you did."

"I suspected..."

"You betrayed me... From the first!" Daenerys accused.

Jorah fell to his knees before her to beg, "Forgive me. I never meant... Please, Khaleesi. Forgive me."

"You sold my secrets to the man who killed my father and stole my brother's throne."

"I have protected you, fought for you, killed for you!"

"You want me to forgive you?" Daenerys inquired.

My heart clenched as Jorah confessed, "I have loved you."

"Love? Love?" Daenerys scoffed, her gaze hard as the stone she stood upon. "How can you say that to me? Any other man and I would have you executed, but you...I don't want you in my city dead or alive. Go back to your masters in King's Landing, collect your pardon if you can."

"Daenerys, please-" he reached towards her pitifully.

Daenerys stepped back out of his reach. "Don't _ever_ presume to touch me again or speak my name. You have until dusk to collect your things and leave this city. If you are found in Meereen past break of day, I'll have your head thrown into Slaver's Bay. Go...now," Daenerys ordered.

As Jorah fled, she watched him go until he was only the footsteps echoing in the halls.

As they faded, she turned to me. "As for you... I suppose you've betrayed me also? Care to admit anything?"

"My marriage to Tywin Lannister?"

She raised an eyebrow as if to say 'go on'.

"Are you going to ban me as well? Crucifixion? Or do I get death by dragon fire?"  _Yes, Y/N, please keep suggesting death sentences for yourself._

"No."

"No?"

"No," she confirmed. "The Second Sons are lead by Daario Naharis who clearly covets you and so does my brother... After all, you can tell me about the Lannisters in exchange for your life."

_Yippee._

* * *

The next morning, I was dressed and briefed on  _my_  money situation before being led down to the arena where Oberyn could easily have his head popped by the Mountain's massive thumbs.

With my dress being more revealing black dress, a slit in the side revealing a leg all the way to where boxers would end and one of my shoulders revealed despite the long sleeve on the other side, I decided to greet the Dornish people.

"Prince Oberyn, may I give you some advice?" I inquired despite the fact that his eyes were locked on my bare skin even with Ellaria's body curled around him.

"Of course, Lady Lannister."

"Get him whilst you can. You may have a poisoned spear but that's nothing if he gets his hands on you. After all, he did worse as a child..."  _And his brother paid the price._  "Good luck and don't fuck it up."

"If I can ask, why are you telling me this?"

"I could tell you some profound nonsense about us being creatures of the same soul for our shared sigil but really I want justice to be served."

Then I left with a curtsy, and took my seat next to Tywin.

As I took the seat, an offered drink as well, I settled in and bid, "If the Gods are as good as they say, then Oberyn will live."

"The Gods are never good. After all, they're gods," Tywin retorted.

* * *

The duel soon began and Oberyn began to impress people with ninja moves, flips and then baton twirling.

Cheers echoed through the stands that increased as he approached his opponent.

"Have they told you who I am?" Oberyn inquired, a broad smile spread across his face with all the arrogance only a man could have.

"Some dead man!" Gregor roared before launching himself into combat, swinging his great-sword that any other man would have been hit by.

But not the Red Viper.

Instead his spear deflected the blade, sliding backwards out of reach. "I am the brother of Elia Martell. And do you know why I've come all the way to this stinking shitpile of a city?" He asked with a shit-eating grin, his eyes tracking the Mountain like the predator of the sigil we shared. "For you."

_Stop milking it or he'll milk you of the life you've got left._

"I am going to hear you confess before you die!" Oberyn declared. "You raped my sister. You murdered her. You killed her children. Say it now, and I will give you a swifter death than you deserve."

The Mountain lunged at him again but Oberyn fends off his strike with his spear, then knocks off Clegane's helmet, the rage on the giant monster's face as feral as he was.

Besides me, I saw Tywin stiffen in his seat and even Cersei twitch in response to her 'champion'.

Yet it was Oberyn whose voice carried the feral bite to it as he hissed, "Say it."

He dodges the Mountain's swings repeatedly, staying a spear's length away, as he chants, "You raped her! You murdered her!"

The Mountain let out a roar of rage as Oberyn pins down Clegane's sword momentarily with his spear-blade.

"You killed her children." Oberyn continues to circle and dodge around Clegane's furious attacks; he finally gets close enough to stab him in the side. Clegane kicks at the Viper and knocks him off his feet, but Oberyn dodges his swing; his voice rises as he continues to circle the Mountain. "You raped her! You murdered her! You killed her children!"

Oberyn made a series of attacks, swinging with grace yet the brute strength managed to cut his spear in half.

Oberyn narrowly dodges the Mountain's next swing and grabs another spear from his attendant.

In their next clash, Clegane pummels him to the ground, but Oberyn manages to dodge his swing and stabs him in the side again, screaming, "YOU RAPED HER! YOU MURDERED HER!" Circling aggressively, he slashed the Mountain's hamstring with the spearblade, bringing him to his knees. "YOU KILLED HER CHILDREN!"

He leaps and stabs Ser Gregor through the chestplate, knocking him onto his back. He stilled watching the tall beast twitch like a spider who had the water dumped on them and refused to die.

"You're dying? No, no, no, you can't die yet. You haven't confessed!" He wrenched his spear free, pretty counter productive, before he shouted once more, "Say it. Say her name: Elia Martell. You raped her. You killed her children. Elia Martell!"

Like lightning had hit him, Oberyn spun to face the Lannister box and stabbed a finger towards Tywin. "Who gave you the order? WHO GAVE YOU THE ORDER?! Say her name! You raped her! You murdered her! You killed her children! Say it! Say her name! SAY IT!"

"ELIA MARTELL!" the beast growled. "I killed her! I raped her! I murdered her children."

Despite his vunerable position, he still attempted to make a grab for Oberyn who hopped just out of the man's clutches but still had him pinned.

"Who-" Oberyn began to ask, elation and wrath in his tone. Oberyn's head lifted with a smirk of triumph that threatened to drop when he caught sight of my face.

All hesitation was gone as he simply straightened, aiming the spear and bid, "Thank you."

In one swift move, he drove it through the giant's eye with the strength of a man who could only now find justice after years of trying.

The crowd remained hushed and only the slapping of feet broke the eerie dim.

Oberyn dropped his spear to catch Ellaria who raced towards him, flinging herself into his arms and embracing him passionately before all the court to see.

I beckoned over a squire, happy the lovers were together. "Send his head to Prince Doran," I ordered quietly.

"No," Cersei protested, calling the squire over to her before whispering hushed orders.

I didn't pay attention as I was busy watching my husband's white knuckled grip slowly release as he stood.

"The gods have made their will known. Tyrion Lannister, in the name of King Tommen of the House Baratheon, first of his name, you are innocent," Tywin announced, face like he had been forced to eat the shit of Tyrion, before ordering, "Guards, release him."

With a wide, impish grin, Tyrion jangled his chains at the gold-cloaks besides him.

* * *

"Sansa?" I whispered once I appeared at her side in that night's dream staring at the same large door she was.

"Y/N!" Pushing away from the door,s he swung her arms around my neck and held me tight. After one final squeeze, she leaned back, still holding on. "TheLordsDeclarantAre-" Sansa began to babble until I grabbed onto her shoulders.

"Slow down, I can't understand what you're saying."

"The Lords Declarant are going to interrogate us about my aunt Lysa's death. Fat-  _He_  wants me to trust him and do what he says but I..."

I paused. It wasn't anything she had said, it was what she had almost let slip. The pure revulsion on her face made me ask, "Sansa, do you trust me?"

"...Yes."  _You shouldn't._

"Then I need you to do one thing for me. I need you to lie."

"But if I say she tried-" Sansa began to protest, the fear in her eyes almost making her skittish.

 I shushed her gently, knowing that someone may hear her beyond those doors. "Who do these people think you are?"

"Alayne Stone. Lord Baelish's bastard daughter," Sansa answered, avoiding my gaze.

"You're a bastard involved in a regent's death, if _he_ gets his way, you could be up for the drop. And with your dark hair, it doesn't matter who you say you are. If you say you're Sansa Stark, you'll be putting yourself at risk," I reasoned before elaborating, "They may even try to marry you off to whatever idiot stumbles in with a title and wealth enough to take back Winterfell if that's what you so desire. So I need you to go in there and lie your ass off, okay?"

She simply nodded with a little sniffle before straightening her back and walking through the door.

_If her life wasn't on the line, I would have stormed in there and demanded trial by combat. Unfortunately, not all of us are Tyrion who can get away with everything._


	49. Hoe Infestation (Chapter 48)

Appearing at Tormund's side and then being told I was to fight or die was not the great way to start the dream. Nothing seemed real until the axe, slightly too heavy for my body, was pressed urgently into my hands and a horn was sounded before we began to run in the dark like a wild stampede.

Only instead of it being Mufasa getting crumpled, the massive ice wall was apparently the target.

Charging forwards, the gates was ripped open by giants and their mammoths, venturing inwards to crush those poor sods that tried to block them.

As people began to shove and heave through the broken gate, I latched onto Ygritte's side, her hair a beacon in the light of the burning wood from those who had ventured before us.

One of the men, scars upon their faces, was downed by someone who roared, "Fucking Thenns!"

It was too hard to see through all of this commotion, using my axe to push my way through the crowds, until I felt myself being sent flying into the earth.

As I lay sprawled upon the floor, my shoulder aching with the force of it and keeping my axe in both hands, I watched the large figure of a brother of the night's watch raise his sword.

If today was to be the day I was killed, it wasn't going to be by some fucking background character.

Somehow, I managed to roll up and out of the way of the sword that came crashing down besides my head, a few centimeters from my ear.

Using the axe, I clawed my way up the wall to shakily stand and raise it as he raised his.

_Remember what Bronn taught you... Remember what Bronn taught you..._

Hopping out of the way of his second strike, I slid under the blade and used the momentum to force my axe into his belly.

He drops, the axe falling with him as his insides slowly trickle out of his body to turn the snow another colour you shouldn't eat.

I hear a gasp and turn away from the body, heaving my axe out of it, using my foot as leverage, and move to look at the source.

Laying beneath the Lord Commander's Tower, was... Ygritte. Sprawled, her body was curled around the arrow that stood proudly from it's marked place between her breasts.

From the tower I can see a small boy, a small bow aimed at her body who nods to Jon as he approaches the body, sword dropped in the snow.

Collapsing at her side, he begins to mumble, clutching onto her hand.

I can hardly hear their conversation, slowly approaching whilst watching out for the Thenns that seem to have been swarming the place.

"You'll see a hundred castles," Jon assured her that I could hear, now that I was closer. "The battle's done. Maester Aemon will see to you." Gently he stroked her hair out of her face as he remarked softly, "You're kissed by fire, remember? Lucky. It will take more than an arrow to kill you. Aemon will draw it out and patch you up, and we'll get you some milk of the poppy for the pain."

_I hate to think it but that arrow wasn't 'harmlessly' to the knee..._

A faint smile painted her lips, a mere flicker like the burning grounds around them yet neither they nor I were being killed for standing still. "D'you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave..."

"We'll go back to the cave," Jon promised urgently, "You're not going to die, Ygritte-"

"Oh." Ygritte cupped Jon's cheek with her hand. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she sighed, dying.

With blood sticky on my face, I can only cry at how desperately they hold onto each other even though I'm soon dragged into the last dregs of the fight.

* * *

At some point, I find myself back to back with Tormund, fighting along the great wooden structures with my axe swinging wildly because I don't really know how to use it.

A great howl erupts from Tormund and I watch as he crashes into me, his larger form sending us both down the steps.

Somehow, we're both still upright despite his larger frame bowling me down the stairs and oh yeah, the arrows sticking out of his back!

Like a mad beast, he pushes me behind him and begins to swing out at any men that approach him despite the fact that he was surrounded.

"Tormund," Jon called stepping forwards out of the circle, covered in as much blood as the rest of us; head to toe. " It’s over. Let it end."

Tormund stilled, before growling, "This is how a man ends." Launching himself forwards, he attacked another man whilst I kept still with my head down.

Jon took a crossbow off of someone, launching a shot into the ginger's shoulder that sent him to his knees.

"Put them in chains," Jon ordered, stepping closer. "We’ll question them later."

Tormund and I were grabbed before being pulled up.

As we were dragged away, I could only hear Tormund's roar that deafened the roar of blood in my ears and the sloshing of my stomach. "I should have thrown you from the top of the wall, boy!"

I could only watch on, being dragged alongside Tormund up the steps, fearing for splinters, and watching Jon slowly turn away.

As he did, he dejectedly replied, "Aye, you should have."

* * *

Sat in a cold cell, shackled back to back with Tormund, I could only sing to keep myself awake, worried for Tormund's safety.

"-D-D-Danger, watch behind you. There's a stranger out to find you. What to do?-"

"SHUT UP!"

"There's a stranger, out to find you! What to do? Just grab on to some Duck Tales!"

The door was forced opened before someone came through.

Before anyone could shout 'Scrooge McDuck', I was punched so hard that the last thing I saw was a flash of ginger.

* * *

In bed I sat up with a groan, feeling my face and patting around my eye which had swollen.

Instead of doing anything unnecessary, I got up and headed down to Pycelle's with a guard at my back.

The guard left me at the door, promising to make a quick round of the corridor.

Pycelle did his usual, giving me the herbs and telling me to chew them before pressing them into the area before sipping from milk of the poppy. After asking me about my moon-blood and lack of a child, I simply babbled something about the early bird doesn't always catch the worm before leaving.

Walking out, I bumped into Tyrion.

"My lady-"

"My lord," I greeted back and in that moment I knew the guard who had followed me would come around the corner in a second, I dropped a small rolled parchment from my sleeve past his face. He managed to catch it and slip it away as my guard came to my side and we walked away in silence.

I sighed in relief, thankful I had been able to find him after my hard work in the night before.

Of course, writing a letter was hard to do when using a calligraphy pen.

_Tyrion,_

_I was hoping to invite you to an evening of sewing in a week's time and was hoping you could bring me a book on poetry. I would so love to learn Valyrian._

_And of course, there will be no wine as it would be bad for..._

_Now that anyone who may try to be spying through the parchment has probably passed out, it's time to tell you what I wrote this thing for._

_(Here is a doodle of a cat.)_

_You know you can't stay here Tyrion. I have friends in Essos who will take you in._

_A boat is stationed at Blackwater Bay to pick you up. Take whoever you like but it leaves when the moon is high whatever the fuck that means.  
_

_Good luck and don't fuck it up._

_Also burn this letter. The guy at the boat will just need your face for identification. (Sorry but you're not exactly inconspicuous.)_

* * *

Black eye given the worst eye-look since anything James Charles had ever done, I sat in the Tower of the Hand's office with Tywin, working in silence until Cersei decided to drop by.

"We've been over this. The matter's closed-" Tywin tried to inform her for the fourth time since she had arrived.

"I'm opening it again," Cersei interrupted, standing before him and almost matching him in height.

"You were betrothed to Loras Tyrell. You are  _still_  betrothed to Loras Tyrell and you will marry Loras Tyrell, as soon as Tommen marries Margaery," Tywin informed her.

"I will not!"

"Jaime cannot marry, or inherit lands." _What the fuck?_ "Tyrion's sentence will be carried out tomorrow. You have, on several occasions, made great claims about your commitment to this family's future. Your role in that future is now more vital than it ever was-"

"I don't care. I will stay in King's Landing where I belong, with my son the King!"

"When you were nine years old, I was called away to the Capitol; I decided to take your brother with me, and not you," Tywin stated. "You insisted that you would not be left at Casterly Rock under any circumstances, and if you recall..."

Cersei rolled her eyes, interrupting, "I'm not interested in hearing another of your smug stories about the time you won. This isn't going to be one of those times."

"Do you think you'll be the first person dragged into a sept to be married against her will?" Tywin inquired.

Cersei's gaze flicked to me, sat in my seat with my nails digging into the wood despite the fact it didn't apply to me, before she steeled herself. "When you marched into the Throne Room to tell me we'd won the Battle of Blackwater... Do you remember? I was sitting on the Iron Throne with Tommen, your  _wife_  with her sword below us. I was about to give him essence of nightshade, that’s how far I was willing to go when I thought someone awful had come to take my son away. Someone awful is coming to take him away."

Tywin obviously didn't believe her words, looking to me to deny it. I didn't. "No."

"Joffrey is dead, Myrcella has been sold like livestock, and now you want to ship me off to Highgarden and steal my boy, my last boy!" Cersei cried. "Margaery will dig her claws in, you will dig your claws in, that _kinslayer_ you've allowed to waddle free, and you will all fight over him like beasts until you rip him apart. I will burn our house to the ground before I let that happen!"

Tywin simply raised an eyebrow, asking almost mockingly, "And  _how_  will you do that?"

Cersei steeled herself once more. "I'll tell everyone the truth." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she declared her intent.

"What truth would that be?"

Cersei choked on a laugh, her gaze locking on mine before gazing back at her father. It was her turn to be in disbelief. "You don't know, do you? You never believed it. How is that possible?" She scoffed. "What am I saying? Of course it's possible. How can someone so consumed by the idea of his family have any conception what his actual family was doing? We were right there, in front of you, and you didn't see us. One look in the past twenty years- one real look, and you would have known."

"Known what?"

Cersei grinned maliciously, tears in her eyes with her teeth bared as she replied, "Everything they say is true - about Jaime and me."

Tywin's back straightened, his face paling even further. If it was possible, Tywin looked like a frightened animal who had been backed into a corner as he began to mutter, "No, no, no, no..."

Cersei giggled like a woman possessed. "Your legacy is a lie."

"No, I don't believe you."

"Yes, you do." Cersei nodded to me as she stated, "She does."

Before Tywin could look away from her, she turned on her heel and flounced away, leaving her father in her wake.

I could only watch as Tywin collapsed into his chair.

He stayed there, perched as if he had been pinned to it, for the rest of the night.

* * *

From sat atop a hill, enjoying the view of a battlefield, I was interrupted by two men on either side of the battle.

One stood completely still but if even his ordered for the other to come forwards was carried up to me by the wind, I would surely be able to hear the rest.

A psycho hobbit with a mullet stepped forwards, a Gollum like smile upon his face as he knelt before the figure of Roose Bolton, declaring, "Moat Cailin is yours, Father."

Roose ignored the fabric stretched between the younger man's hands as ho ordered, "Walk with me."

They began to approach my hill and I sat and waited for them to spot me as they chatted.

* * *

Finally, they reached the top but were still chatting.

"Has there been any word from Locke?"

"No."

"Unimportant. A cripple, a young boy... None of the northern lords have seen them." Roose almost shrugged. "Dead most likely. Most of the ironborn have fled the North. Now more will follow, thanks to you."

Stopping at the top of the hill, I could only watch as they ignored my presence and instead gazed out into the murky landscape.

"Tell me what you see," Roose asked.

_A betrayer who's not worthy of a Mufasa impression..._

_"_ Moors, fields, hills," Shitty Hobbit answered.

"Tell me what you see," Roose asked again.

"Nothing."

"Not nothing. The North." Roose turned and struck a pose, pointing. "Ride miles that way, you’re still in the North. 700miles that way and 400 miles _that_ way. The North is larger than the other six kingdoms combined. And I am the Warden of the North. The North is mine. Now tell me, what is your name?"

"Ramsay Snow," the hobbit answered.

"No, not Ramsay Snow." From his furs he slipped out a scroll and pressed it into the guy's hands who handled it like Precious. "Open it."

The guy opened it, scanning the words before his mouth fell open.

"From this day until your last day, you are Ramsay Bolton, son of Roose Bolton, Warden of the North."

"You honour me." Ramsay fell to his knees again. _Mate you are in the wrong career path._ "I swear I will uphold your name and your tradition. I will be worthy of you, Father, I promise."

_I promise once I wake up I'm going to help Tyrion get away from his father._

* * *

Collecting Tyrion from his room was easy enough but I wanted to use my doorway through the tower to help him escape and get out to wherever he wished to go.

However, what I hadn't expected was a hoe infestation.

On  _my_ bed, the bed I had shared with my husband, laid the body of Shae laid almost limp and as I followed behind Tyrion, she lifted her head.

Groaning, she rubbed her eyes and I managed to make out, "Tywin? My lion?"

Nope. Nope. Nopity nope.

As she becomes more awake, she sees Tyrion, looking hurt and betrayed. She grabs a knife from a sidetable.

Before I can move, Tyrion charges at her.

They fight, and Tyrion forces her to drop the knife. They continue to struggle violently.

Tyrion grabs the chain around her neck and strangles her with it until she is dead.

He sinks to the floor and sits next to Shae's lifeless body, weeping. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

Tyrion stares at the wall across the room, unseeing even when I approach him. I don't touch him, worried he's going to do something.

And he does.

As his gaze darkens, he stands almost robotic-ally and walks over to the wall of weaponry Tywin had.

He takes the crossbow that Joffrey had owned, then heads down the hall to the privy, opening the door to find his father seated upon the toilet.

Wielding Joffrey's crossbow, Tyrion confronted Tywin, disrobed in the privy in the Tower of the Hand.

"Tyrion." Tywin was obviously surprised but began to regain his composure as he ordered, "Put down the crossbow. Who released you? Your brother, I expect. He always had a soft spot for you. Come, we'll go and talk in my chambers. This is how you want to speak to me, hmm? Shaming your father has always given you pleasure."

"All my life you've wanted me dead."

Tywin nodded. "Yes. But you refused to die. I respect that. Even admire it. You fight for what's yours. I'd never let them execute you. Is that what you fear? I'd never let Ilyn Payne take your head. You're a  _Lannister_. You're my son."

"I loved her," Tyrion whispered.

"Who?"

"Shae."

"Oh, Tyrion. Put down that crossbow," Tywin ordered.

Tyrion ignored him. "I murdered her. With my own hands."

"It doesn't matter," Tywin attempted to brush it aside.

"Doesn't matter?" Tyrion softly echoed, the false tranquillity making my skin crawl.

"She was a whore just like Tysha."

"Say that word again..."

"And what? You'll kill your own father in the privy? No. You're my son. Now, enough of this nonsense-"

"I  _am_  your son and you sentenced me to die. You knew I didn't poison Joffrey, but you sentenced me all the same. Why?" Tyrion inquired.

"Enough. We'll go back to my chambers and speak with some dignity." Tywin began to stand but sat back down when the crossbow followed his movements.

"I can't go back there," Tyrion stated. "She's in there."

_Yeah in my fucking bed._

"You're afraid of a dead whore?"

Tyrion looses the crossbow bolt into Tywin's gut. 

"You shot me." He groans in pain as he glares at Tyrion, who loads another bolt, levelling his glare on the smaller man before snarling, "You're no son of mine."

"I  _am_  your son. I have always been your son _,"_ Tyrion declared.

Before he could take his last shot, I placed a gentle hand on Tyrion's shoulder.

Thinking better of it, Tyrion turned away from his father and began to pass me, pressing the crossbow into me as he went.

"Give the guy this-" I pulled off the massive lion pendant I had received for my wedding and threw it at Tyrion who caught it clumsily but continued walking, leaving me to call after him. "With that much it could take you all the way to Asshai."

_Now back to the situation at hand..._

Despite the betrayal, the bitterness I felt, the shame and general ickiness of human emotion, I realised I had to be reasonable. "Tywin, I will save your life on three conditions."

"I am your... anything," he groaned out, clutching onto his side.

"Good, hold on to that thought."

I helped Tywin up, screwing my eyes and nose shut at the smell before hollering, "MAESTER PYCELLE!"


	50. End of Season 4 & I'm Not Rhyming Anymore (Chapter 49)

I couldn't stand to return to  _my_ rooms or stand at my _husband's_ side.

Instead, I sat outside of the maester's chambers, no one by me. I had ordered Emma to get the sheets burnt and whilst she was at it, anything in those rooms she didn't want or were family heirlooms that could be sent to Slytherin Keep. Sitting by a small window watching the city, I wished for a window by the sea. I wished I could see Tyrion's ship leave.

I wondered where he would go because despite knowing where he had come from and getting married a long time ago.

"My lady," the other Maester caught my attention. Brought from the ruins of Harrenhal with Jaime but as Pycelle kept my lessons, I had no need to speak to him. "Your husband is awake."

With a small smile, I brushed off my skirts pushed off of the wall I had been leaning on and followed after him.

* * *

Despite all of my lessons in this room, I would never feel more uncomfortable in the old man's presence than when staring over the body of my traitorous husband.

I could see the new scar being wiped clean by Pycelle to remove the blood, the few wisps of golden hair left on his chest amongst a small patch of silver, the thin scar he received as a boy when he forced his father's most brutal guard to teach him to fight... all of these details I remembered and yet I was repayed with nothing.

I mentally snorted.

_Story of my fucking life._

Approaching Tywin's body feeling his gaze follow me as I sat down on a stool next to Pycelle, I left him stew in silence for a few seconds.

Then I began. "Now about those three things you promised me-"

"My lady, can this not wait?" Pycelle inquired, pausing in his cleaning.

I just ignored him, giving him the Westeros treatment as I began to state my terms, "One; You release me from the vows of being bound. I'll still fund your Patreon or whatever but I will be legally free - separation or annulment I could not give less of a fuck, I just want you to go away which leads me on to my next point. Two; I'm going to destroy _all_ of my fucking furniture because I don't want any old hoe's nasty ass infecting my shit so you're buying me more if you survive, oncw you get a job in industry like the rest of us. Three; go back to Casterly Rock and stay there. Give up being the Hand of the King and be the Old Lion of the Rock. Sure you can start wars and shit but no more interference with King's Landing. Unless I give my say so or I'm dead. Wanna know why?"

Tywin simply groaned, obviously able to hear me but the pain too much.

"Because I stayed loyal and yet you've been fucking your own son's whore. There's no love between us so you know what? I'll do as I please. If I so choose I could make you the biggest cuck in the seven kingdoms - bigger than Robert was when your children fucked each other and made a grandson more inbred... I think I've said that before but perhaps the pissed off haze in my mind is blocking my thoughts. Regardless..." I smirked down at the man making sure that he would remember everything I was going to say next. 

"I could bear the child of a Targaryen or the last living Clegane or a Tyrell or perhaps I will fuck your son. Or better yet, I could fuck a woman and then no heirs for you... Well this has been fun. I'm off now. Ta ta~"

I stood and called over my shoulder to the maesters, "Call me if he dies!"

* * *

As I headed back to  _my_ rooms, the parlor I had been given before my marriage, hoping to finally slip out of this lion's skin, I was disappointed to find a visitor who sat in the darkness, their golden hair only a flicker like the candle on the table.

"Cersei," I acknowledged before asking, "What do you want of me at this late hour?"

"Is it true?" she asked.

I shrugged.

"Is it true Tyrion killed father?"

"No," I answered curtly, my lip curling.  _Kind of wish he had._

The woman settled and as she sighed, the candle flickering to reveal her tear-lined face and red rimmed eyes with a slightly snotty nose.

"I suppose you'll be going back to Casterly Rock soon?" Cersei inquired. "If Father is still alive and gives up the title for safety concerns..."

I shrugged.

"Then I suppose you'll want some advice on how to be Lady of Casterly Rock once you take over from my Lady Aunt Genna."  _Not really but thank you for coming in the dead of night to tell me this..._  "When I was a girl... a witch lived in the woods. My father had warned me against going there but he had left for the capital... Taking Jaime with him-"

"I don't mean to be horrible but is there a point to this?"  _I got shit to do, people to fuck, taxes to pay etc._

Despite not seeing her much, I could tell those emerald orbs of hers rolled in their sockets. "You'll probably ignore my father when he tells you..." Her words trailed off into a mumble.

"A witch lived in those woods but she looked like you or I, not the fierce beast that rivaled the family sigil. I demanded of her to tell me my future-" she chuckled a little before taking a sip of her grape juice. "Or I would have her two eyes gouged out of her head."

_Good being a cunt does run in the family._

"Maggy the Frog-"

I snorted.

She ignored me. "I said, _'I've been promised to the prince. When will we marry?'._ In return she told me that I would never wed the prince but a king.A queen I would be until another, younger and more beautiful would come to cast me down and take all I hold dear..." her words ended in a mournful tone, her gaze downcast.

"Okay... So?"

The flame flickered once more before putting itself out as she stood.

In a second she was before me, her breath so close it warmed my lips as she whispered something to me and soon I was gone, left in her wake before disappearing myself.

* * *

The warmth of Meereen greeted me, the sun dressing me in a warm embrace that no silk could ever hope to imitate.

Standing in the throne room of Daenerys by Missandei, didn't take away from that warmth despite the cool gaze they kept up.

 **"** _You stand before Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons_ **,"** Missandei announced once more to the man on the steps before the queen seeking an audience.

"Thank you for seeing me, Your Grace. My name is Fennesz," the man spoke before offering in the common tongue,"I can speak the Common Tongue, if you wish."

"You speak it very well," Daenerys warmly complimented.

"Before you freed me, I belonged to Master Mighdal," Fennesz informed her. "I was tutor to his children. I taught them languages and history. They know a great deal about your family because of me and of the old ways... the gods and  _her_. Little Calla is only seven, but she admires your lady and your majesty very much."

"I hope I can prove worthy of her admiration."

"As do I," I added.

"What can I do for you?" Daenerys inquired.

"When you took the city, the children begged me not to leave the house but Master Mighdal and I agreed that I must. So I lost my home. Now I live on the streets. I have outfitted mess halls to feed all former slaves and barracks to shelter them. I do not mean to offend, Your Grace," Fennesz said quickly at her cold look. "I went to one of these places. The young prey on the old, take what they want and beat us if we resist."

"My Unsullied will make them safe again in short order, my friend, this I promise you-"

"Even if they are safe, who would I be there?" He asked. "What purpose would I serve? With my master, I was a teacher. I had the respect and love of his children."

"What is it that you want from me?"

"Your Grace, I ask you to let me sell myself back to Master Mighdal."

"You want to return to a man who owned you like a goat or a chair?" Daenerys asked, astonished.

"Please, Your Grace," Fennesz pleaded. "The young may rejoice in the new world you have built for them, but for those of us too old to change, there is only fear and squalor. I am not alone. There are many outside waiting to beg the same of you."

"I did not take this city to preside over the injustice I fought to destroy. I took it to bring people freedom-"

"But freedom means making your own choices," I mentioned.

Daenerys stilled, drumming her nails on the throne's arms before stating, "I will allow you to sign a contract with your former master. It may not cover a period lasting longer than a year."

"Thank you, Your Grace. My lady. Thank you." He soon left.

Once he was gone and the next man was called forwards, Daenerys turned to me. "The masters will take advantage of this situation, you do realise Y/N. The men serving them will be slaves in all but name."

"Or they will take this chance to realise the economy needs free labour."

Daenerys turned back once again as Missandei began to announce her names.

"Approach, my friend," Daenerys ordered.

The man stayed still as he said something in his own language, tears beginning to leak from his eyes as he stared at his wrapped bundle.

Missandei spoke something back and he approached, shifting the bundle in his arms as he made his way up the steps.

"I have brought you…" Missandei translated, confusedly. "He came from the sky. The black one. The winged shadow."

The man knelt and slowly lowered the bundle to the ground, the fabric cared for as if it's contents were worth as much as gold.

"He came from the sky and…"

The man laid the bundle on the ground and slowly with trembling fingers unveiled the burnt skeleton of a child.

I had to turn away, almost sick at the sight of it as the body turned my stomach. The man's misery drowning me.

"My girl. My little girl."

We all waited in silence, the shroud of death curling into our bones and rolling over our skin like a field of fire.

"What was her name?" Daenerys asked quietly.

"Hazzea, Your Grace."

"How old was she?" I asked.

"Three."

"Three," the man croaked in repetition, "Hazzea." He picked up the skull of the girl, cradling it against his chest despite the black stain it left behind.

* * *

"And still no word of Drogon?" Daenerys asked in her private solar, pacing the room as I leant against a wall by the door, ignoring Daario's glances.

"Sailors saw him flying over the Black Cliffs three days ago, my Queen," Missandei informed her. "Nothing since then."

_Dragons are dangerous. Should have figured that out the first time you used them as weapons._

_Viserys kept his dragon calm and as far as I know there are no casualties-_

I was dragged out of my thoughts by Daenerys grabbing my shoulder and requesting, "Meet me at the catacombs."

* * *

Rhaegal was the dragon I would probably have picked if I had the choice. With emerald scales that glistened bronze in the golden light of the city, a jade in the shadows as he lumbered besides us, eyes that glowed with their own heat despite their bronze lenses, it was hard to see the monster Drogon had turned out to be.

Yet with his large claws that scraped across the floor, wings with points as sharp as the throne everyone was fighting for, it was very clear he wasn't a pet.

Instead of asking why the catacombs, possibly because I knew we weren't going to the Court of Miracles or doing anything I really wanted to realise.

The round stone that had been blocking the door was removed and whilst Jesus did not step out, we did step in.

The dragon followed swallowing us even further, the darkness no match for his great shadow.

As if possessed the thing flew forwards, crashing against the floor of the over-sized grave and skidding along the floor until it began to rip viciously at something. Blood began to fly from it's fangs.

Hanging back, I watched Daenerys approach the dragon stone-faced. Despite her echoing footsteps, the dragon only rips further into the blood carcass - an animal? Another person like his brother? - and ignores her completely.

As she bends down near a pillar, she picks up a heavy iron collar and slaps it over the beast's neck. Her tears lock onto his scales the same as the iron; completely.

Finally, the beast jerks as the lock snaps shut and Daenerys wipes her tears walking back to me with a face cold as the stone I stood upon.

The dragon began to rear up, struggling with the collar as it roared.

I stayed still, watching her leave the tomb and only when the door began to close did I let myself be ripped away from the possible tomb of the over-sized lizard.

* * *

 

The freezing cold bit at me because apparently no sleep means only one outfit for everywhere other than the really hot places - trousers, a loose shirt and boots.

This would be fine if I was not surrounded by Bran, Rickon, Jojen and co. decked in furs from head to toe.

I don't believe they were aware of my presence, continuing along the ice as they were.

Before I could react to anything or even call out to warn Rickon to not rush forwards, I listened to the cries of fear and turned to see the green-seer being dragged towards the break in the ice.

Jojen began to struggle against the thing grabbing his legs. His sister grabbed his arms, struggling to pull.

I could see her slipping and decided to act, hurrying over to the thing and stamping on it's wrists before it could do any damage like the CGI zombie skeleton it was.

It let go and as Meera heaved one final time, slipping up the ice with her brother with her, the ice began cracking under my feet.

As I slipped into the ice I heard a scream next to me, too young and not British enough to be anyone I recognized immediately.

* * *

The shock of slipping through the ice wasn't easily cured by appearing against a rock to watch Arya sword-fighting with the air.

Despite appearing before her, she didn't acknowledge me, trapped in her own head as she was.

Arya span around, looking over my head with her sword pointed. Her eyes widened as she took in something behind me.

I couldn't move, as heavy as my body felt.

"You can shit later, there's people coming," Arya called over to Sandor who, when I checked, was squatted.

"Morning," a woman greeted. I could almost place the voice.

"Morning," Arya greeted back curtly, stepping closer to me and the rock.

"I like your sword," the woman called.

Finally I could place the voice as Brienne of Tarth and I felt my breath catch in my throat.  _This does not bode well._

"Are we getting close to the Bloody Gate?" Brienne inquired

"About 10 more miles," Arya answered.

"Did you hear that, Podrick? Only 10 more miles to the Bloody Gate." I checked around the rock to see Brienne gazing down at Podrick struggling with the bags with disdain.

"Are you a knight?" Arya dropped her sword to her side.

"No."

"But you know how to use that sword?"

"I do."

Apparently this was enough for Arya to trust her as she began to go around the side of the rock, standing before it as she asked, "Does it have a name?"

"Oathkeeper," Brienne replied.

"Mine’s Needle."

"Good name," Brienne complimented.

Someone was feeling awfully chatty today... "Who taught you how to fight?"

"My father."

"Mine never wanted to."  _Rip Eddie. "_ Said fighting was for boys."

"Mine said the same. But I kept fighting the boys anyway. Kept losing. Finally my father said, 'If you’re going to do it, you might as well do it right.'"

Sandor finally returned from his shit, fiddling with his belt and after a quick glance at me, joined Arya's side.

"Seven blessings," Brienne greeted cheerfully. "I’m Brienne of Tarth. This is Podrick Payne."

"You want something?" Sandor gruffly

"That’s Sandor Clegane; the Hound," Podrick stated causing Arya to step behind him slightly. As I stood up from behind the rock, moving over to stand between the two extreme heights, I watched Podrick's eyes grow wide. "That's Lady Slytherin."

Brienne's eyes gazed at the two of us in curiosity before looking at Arya as if seeing her for the first time. As if being slapped with the fish of wisdom, she said, "You’re Arya Stark."

"I asked if you wanted something." Sandor placed a hand on his sword.

"I swore to your mother I would bring you home to her," Brienne told her softly, ignoring the threat.

"My mother’s dead," Arya stated, a cold look in her eyes that almost made her feral and waiting.

"I know. I wish I could have been there to protect her," Brienne admitted.

"You’re not a Northerner."

"No, but I swore a sacred vow to protect her." Brienne stepped forwards.

"Why didn’t you?" Arya asked with a voice full of the pain she wished to hide from the world.

"She commanded me to bring Jaime Lannister back to King’s Landing-"

"You’re paid by the Lannisters. You’re here for the bounty on me."

If I had the energy I would roll my eyes at Sandor's narcissism.

"I’m not paid by the Lannisters," Brienne began.

"No?" Sandor asked, stepping closer with his sword in hand, ready to draw out at any moment. "Fancy sword you’ve got there. Where’d you get it?" 

She didn't answer as he paused in front of her.

"I’ve been looking at Lannister gold all my life. Go on, Brienne of fucking Tarth. Tell me that’s not Lannister gold."

"Jaime Lannister gave me this sword," Brienne admitted.

Something came over Arya's face and as coolly as she could she re-iterated, "The Bloody Gate is 10 miles away."

"I swore to your mother by the old gods and the new-"

"I don’t care what you swore!" Arya shouted, moving closer to me.

"Arya!-"

"You heard the girl," Sandor cut in before gruffly stating, "She’s not coming with you."

"She is and so is  _she."_   _I have a name but whatever._

I felt Arya grip onto my wrist with the hand not fiddling with her necklace.

As Sandor drew his sword, Brienne drew hers.

"You’re not a good listener. Valyrian steel?" Sandor inquired. "I always wanted some Valyrian steel."

Brienne once more ignored the thinly veiled threat. "Come with me, Arya. I’ll take you to safety."

"Safety?" Sandor repeated mockingly. "Where the fuck’s that? Her aunt in the Eyrie is dead. Her mother’s dead. Her father’s dead. Her brother’s dead. Winterfell is a pile of rubble. There is no safety, you dumb bitch. You don’t know that by now, you’re the wrong one to watch over her."

"And that’s what you’re doing?" Brienne inquired, a wry and ugly smile on her face. "Watching over her?"

"Aye, that’s what I’m doing," Sandor almost growled.

Brienne's sword was fully pulled out, raised to point at Sandor who looked wholly unimpressed from what I could see.

Sandor pulled his out to match.

Their swords locked as a particularly lazy first strike was given matched by an easier lazier second strike when they released.

Yet Brienne smirked, ducking under the swords and heading towards Arya and I.

She would have been successful if not for the meddling Hound who swiped her back and towards the rocks.

His next strike would have landed in her neck if not for her dancing away causing his metal to spark as it clashed against metal.

His next hit was punctuated by a roar as he swung and swung, being deflected by Brienne as they carried up the hill.

Then with all of the ferocity of a drunk man, Sandor punched Brienne in the face. It was so hard she fell out of side, her armour clunking down the hill as she rolled.

I watched Podrick leap towards us and Arya hurry to go, trying to tug me along but I stayed still.

I blocked Podrick's way to Arya.

"Sorry about this Pod!" Then I took a note from Bronn's lessons, despite no sword, and kicked him in the bollocks.

He fell to the floor as Arya scarpered out of sight up the hill.

Once she had gone, I left Podrick groaning as I raced to watch the fight. But with legs this weak it took a while to catch up to the duelers who had moved further into a clearing, their swords clashing as they turned and twisted around each other, hoping for an opening.

The opening had an end as they reached another edge.

Sandor's sword was swiped away and I hurried towards them as Sandor was forced onto his knees, a sword pointed between his eyes.

"I have no wish to kill you, ser," Brienne said whilst being the only one with a sword and it being pointed at her opponent's face.

I watched, frozen, as Sandor's gaze flicked from me to Brienne before a snarl formed on his face. As metal as fuck, he clutched onto the sword with both hands and used it to stand despite the crunching of skin and blood leaking.

"I'm not a knight."

Once more, he punched her in the face and Brienne went done with a; "WORAH!"

As Brienne tried to stand, on hands and knees, he grabbed her hair and wrenched her head back.

Before he could do much more, she did a me and punched him in the dick so hard he fell to his knees and the two rolled until they both lay on their backs.

"FUCK IT UP!" Don't know who I'm cheering for but it's nice to feel like I'm helping.

Sandor was the first to recover as he stood, pulled his leg back and kicked Brienne in the clit.

_My vag hurt in sympathy and I almost crossed my legs with the phantom pain._

He did it once more causing the metal to groan and her to cry out in agony.

His next kick was to her torso, sending her flat on her back once more.

As she gasped for breath he straddled her, choking her as he lifted her head and slammed it into the ground before landing blow after blow as he punched her in the face.

_Not her beautiful face!_

His final blow was to raise her by the neck and headbutt her.

Another blade was pulled and aimed at Brienne's throat, about to end the fight-

Brienne used his own momentum against him, rolling them over so she straddled his side.

Leaning forwards, she bared her teeth and with a roar she leaned forward and-

"FUCK MY LIFE!"

SHE JUST RIPPED HIS RIGHT EAR OFF WITH HER TEETH!

He managed to rock her off, causing them both to be able to stand.

Squaring up, Brienne spat the ear in m direction causing it to fall at my feet.

_Not the gift I ever wanted from Brienne or Sandor._

Sandor tried to slash at her once more but she roared in his face and punched him once more.

Again he tried but she jumped up and clobbered him, her added weight causing them to lean back.

Brienne took her chance, slapping and hitting him as many times as she could before he shoved her away.

Reeling from the blow, Sandor had bent over as if winded.

Seeing her chance, Brienne raised her arms-

To be punched in the belly by Sandor!

Then the face... Then the face again... and again... and again.

Yet Brienne still had the energy to punch him in the face with an uppercut!

Then another one- and another one - another one...

Her blows in such quick succession and her grip on his chest plate forced him backwards as she whaled on him.

With only last hit, she forced him over the edge and his mouth made no noises of complaint as he fell.

"SANDOR!" I rushed over to the cliff edge and gazed at his fallen body. Hands clapped to my mouth, I hurried back the way I had came, determined to get out of dodge because honestly Arya is my only safe bet right now.

* * *

"Arya! Y/N! ARYA!" Brienne called once she had recovered and I watched, holding Arya close as I gazed down, hidden against the rock.

"Where is she?" Brienne asked hurriedly of Podrick as he approached walking funny.

"She was just here!"

"Why weren’t you watching her?"

"The Lady Slytherin attacked me and I was watching you. I thought you might need some help."

"Which way, Pod? Which way did they go?"

"I think that way." Podrick pointed in the wrong direction and off they went.

* * *

Arya had deemed the coast clear and we had gone in the direction of Sandor's body, finding him at the bottom of a ravine covered in his own blood.

"Are you still here?" Sandor asked before coughing up blood. _"_ Big bitch saved you."

"I don't need saving," Arya replied calmly, her grip on my wrist as she began to crouch. Exhaustion was getting to me and I fell down next to her.

"No, not you. You're a real killer, with your water-dancing and your Needle."

"You going to die?" Arya asked blunt as ever.

Sandor scoffed. "Unless there's a maester hiding behind that rock... aye. I'm done. I'd skin you alive for wine."

Arya reached for her water-skin.

"Fuck waterǃ" He chuckled before wistfully stating, "Killed by a woman. I bet you like that. Go on. Go after her. She'll help you."

Arya shook her head.

 _"_ Going it alone, you won't last a day out there. Either of you."

"I'll last longer than you. Y/N will as well."

"You remember where the heart is?" Sandor asked and I felt my breath stop.

Arya simply nodded.

"Fuck it... I'm ready. Go on, girl. Another name off your list. You kept promising me... I cut down your butcher's boy, the ginger. He was begging for mercy. 'Please, ser, please don't kill meǃ Pleaseǃ Pleaseǃ'" He mocked in a shit kid's voice.  _Don't quit your day job._  "Bled all over my horse. Saddle stunk of butcher's boy for weeks. And your sister, your pretty sister. I should've taken her, that night the Blackwater burned. I should've fucked her bloody. At least I'd have one happy memory. Or what about her-" he jerked his head in my direction before groaning in pain. "I could have fucked you bloody."

I can't gasp in shock, I knew he was an asshole. It's why we're best buds... Buds...

Arya does not react either, continuing to stare blankly at him.

"Do I have to beg you? Do it. Do it. Do itǃ Either of you!"

Arya leant over him, hand on her sword-hilt... but instead she took his gold pouch and rose to stand.

I stayed sat next to the man I had drunk with, fought with and even took selfies with...

Arya tried to tug me up but I shook my head and realizing the bags in the the heavy billowy shirt's, tucked in the waist so it kept everything in, I reached down and pulled out the heaviest one.

She tried once more but I only placed the bag in her hand and smiled softly at her, willing her to go.

A flicker of emotion crossed Arya's face, a small please escaping her lips.

I smiled once more before turning back to the dying drama queen.

As he footsteps faded, I allowed a few tears to shed before I focused on the pouches in my shirt, untucking it so they fell to the ground.

_Funny... the exact herbs Pycelle taught me to use._

"Kill me. Kill meǃ KILL MEǃ KILL MEǃǃ" Sandor called out to the world, ignoring my presence.

Instead, I began to pull at his armour hoping to stem the bleeding, chewing leaves to create a paste as I set to work.

Into the universe, I sent out a prayer;

_Dear whoever the fuck you are, you brought me to this shitstorm of a world._

_You've let Hodor live, you've let Tywin to live... This man deserves life. He deserves redemption._

_Please let me help him live so he can find it._


	51. Shitty Buckaroo (Chapter 50)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait but my laptop was fucking me over. Enjoy this piece of shit.

I had worked so hard to stem the bleeding, the proof of my efforts was the fact that he wasn't anymore but he was still breathing.

Somehow I had managed to convince his stupid horse to follow me, because it almost bit me when I tried to grab his reins, and follow me to Sandor. Even more surprising, I had managed to heave Sandor onto his back and lay him stretched like a sack of flour on a pack mule.

My legs were beginning to ache, my ankles swelling as I lead the horse through the day until even the sun had left me and I was wandering aimlessly in the dark, hoping someone would be found.

And apparently the world was in my favour for a second as a lantern appeared out of the corner of my eye as I glanced about the winding road I had been travelling.

"HI!" I called out to the figure who stood alone on the roadside, immediately recognizing him as a septon from the brown monk cloak without the shit hair (sorry Athelstan) and pointed cowl. "HELP!"

The dumb horse nearly knocked into me as I had stopped immediately to wave like a lunatic.

"Miss, are you well?" The septon asked, hurrying over to me as he pulled his lantern along.

"I am but my friend isn't. Is there anyway you can take him that can get him the help he needs?"

_Holy shit this dude is tall as fuck!_

"I can lead him to the Quiet Isle-" he began to offer.

"Great let's get going!"

The septon sighed. "You may not venture forth with us, miss. The Quiet Isle is a brotherhood of peace and a woman such as yourself would only inspire lustful wrath and cause the Gods' wrath to fall upon us-"

"A boys only club. Gotcha. Look, I don't really care as long as he gets all the help he needs... Now can you come help because his horse is an asshole."

To further my point, Stranger snorted into my hair.

_I swear to fuck if I have horse snot in my hair I am going to get goth cowboy furniture from him._

The septon looked hesitant to accept him, glancing at the gaping wounds, the scars (new and old) and his large stature spread over the horse's back like shitty Buckaroo.

"Please, I'm begging you. He's basically one of the only people in this world that I've met that is honest. He's not really good, or nice... okay, not helping my case, but he has the chance to be. Please help him. Please..."

_Is it raining?_

"Very well, I will guide him to the Quiet Isle but we must now part. Say goodbye to your..." Septon No Name gestured vaguely to the body strewn over the horse and I nodded as he turned to take the task of trying to get the reins of the horse.

As I stepped backwards, gazing at Sandor's fallen form I could only whisper, "You're a dumbass but you're  _my_  dumbass. Get better soon and I'll come find you if that's what you want. I promise. But for now, we need to part ways so I guess this is goodbye Sandy."

I patted his head, a groan echoing from him before I stepped away and watched the septon begin to tug Stranger along despite his resistance to the tall monk.

Only when they faded from sight amongst the marshes did I decide it was time to leave.

* * *

When I returned to the Red Keep, I discovered that Tywin had obeyed and fucked off back to Casterly Rock, abandoning the post of Hand of the King leaving the seat empty. So empty in fact that I, advisor, was considered by Cersei for some fucking reason.

I headed straight down from my rooms (old or not those fucking rooms were being re-renovated just like my closet), dressed in the black and green jewels Joffrey had given me at my wedding paired with the dress Baelish had given me (a quick sniff of it reminded me of the drugs I had been given that day) to the old meeting chamber by the throne room to sit near the sprawled Oberyn.

For a while, Oberyn and I just caught each other's eye as he rolled his eyes at something Cersei would say then I would roll mine at any mention of what Tywin would have done.

But finally my attention was caught when she said this;

"For the capture of Tyrion for the crime of attempted patricide, 10,000 silver stags-" That she doesn't have. "-will be granted."

"And what if your brother is dead?" Kevan inquired.

"For the imp's capture or just his head, I'll gladly give a lordship." Cersei's cruel smirk disappeared as she clapped her hands to change the topic. "Speaking of  _family,_  Uncle Kevan! In light of your position as Commander of the Lannister armies, it would please the King if you would serve as his Master of War," Cersei declared before complimenting, "No man living better deserves the title."

"That is kind of you to say." Judging by his tone, I could tell it wasn't. "I would like to hear it from the King, himself."

"The King is very busy at this moment."

I didn't even need to look at Oberyn to know he was smirking.

"He should be here, learning what it means to rule because you won't be here forever. Especially with your wedding in the upcoming days."

Cersei bristled. "He is learning. On this occasion, in his capacity as ruler, he's asked me to speak on his behalf and-"

"I return to the Capital to see to my brother, and to his wife, and to serve the King," Kevan began, completely pissed off, "I did not return to the Capitol to serve as your puppet, to watch you stack the Small Council with sycophants! Sending your own brother away so he won't..."

"My brother has left the Capitol to lead a sensitive diplomatic mission-"

"What mission?" Oberyn asked, intending to stir the pot.

"That is not your concern as Master of Trade nor is it yours uncle, as Master of War."

"I do not recognize your authority to dictate what is and is not my concern. You are the Queen Mother. Nothing more," Kevan snapped. "Now if you'll excuse me..." He stood, pushing himself from the table.

"You would abandon your King in his time of need?" Cersei shrieked after him.

"If he wants to send for me, I will be waiting for him. At Casterly Rock," Kevan called back.

Not wanting to stay and listen to Cersei's bitching, I hurried after him.

"KEVAN!" I called, rounding the corner to see the isolated corridor.

"A lady does-" Kevan began to berate as he stilled to face me.

"-Not run. Yes, I know. However, I suggest you go to Casterly Rock straight away. Serve your brother whilst you still can."

He raised an eyebrow.

I shushed him, pressing a scroll into his hand that I had had stored in my rooms since the night of Tywin's attempted assassination. "Give this to him please. It's urgent."

Kevan nodded, taking it and left.

_Thank you for delivering my divorce papers._

* * *

Deciding I didn't want to stay for any wedding planning, actually out-running my own handmaidens as they attempted to herd me to Cersei or Margaery, I chose my greatest alias and set forth.

Setting forth to Castle Black as a messenger seems not to have been a great idea as I can't find anyone I know or actually care about.

Instead, all I got in greeting were claps on the back and calls of;

"Dick's returned!"

"I thought you'd shriveled up and died!"

"Wait... is Dick Bangkok his real name? Isn't that a mouthful?"

"Nah, it's probably just a pain in the ass-"

Needing to escape the dick jokes before I outed myself, I scanned the busy place to spot the tousled hair of emo supreme entering a lift.

Hurrying through the crowd, elbowing my way through, I managed to slip inside as the door shut and began to rise.

Falling to the cold bottom of the elevator, I began to pant heavily for breath before turning to the other passenger only to gulp as I gazed at the unamused Melisandre and a bewildered Jon.

_Cue the awkward elevator music._

* * *

"So... How's Ghost?" I finally asked to ease the tension as we neared the top.

Jon seemed not to have heard me, his attention caught by Melisandre's plunging neckline as he inquired, "You're not cold, my lady?"

"Never. The Lord's fire lives within me, Jon Snow." She takes his hand, slips it out of a leather glove and presses it to her cheek, ordering, "Feel."

Meanwhile I remain sat on the floor wondering what kind of heat that's in her face is protecting her nips from being ice tips.

"Are you a virgin?" Melisandre asked out of nowhere.

Jon's hand jolted away from her face as if he had been burned, his face igniting almost immediately. Like a guilty child, he peered at me out of the corner of his eye as he quietly admitted, "No."

"Good... And you?"

I quirked an eyebrow, refusing to answer.

Before she could open her mouth again, the elevator stopped and I watched them fuck off out of the lift before I was caged back in.

_I need warming up after that fucking nightmare. Was I cold or was the awkwardness just freezing me in place?_

* * *

****In Meereen I sat next to Daenerys, dressed in a simple blue gown of her court, wary of her rising frustration due to the slaughter of her people.

"Conquerors  _are_  always met with resistance-" Daario began.

"I didn't conquer them. Their own people did," Daenerys insisted.

"Of course my queen but they do not see use as people," a member of the Unsullied mentioned.

"Then they will have to learn to see things differently, Mossador. He did not risk his life fighting for freedom so cowards in masks could take it away. And I did not take up residence in this pyramid so I could watch the city below decline into chaos. What was the name of the man you lost?"

"White Rat, your grace," Grey Worm answered.

"I want him buried with honour. Publicly. In the Temple of the Graces. That will provoke the snakes and angry snakes lash out. Makes chopping off their heads that much easier. Find the men who did this and bring them to me," Daenerys ordered.

Standing up and stretching, I announced, "Well gang, looks like we have a mystery on our hands... Wait no we don't." I sat back down. Turning to Daenerys I affirmed, "They've left signs of the shitty statue of this city right? "

"Yes..."

"And this  _shadow war_  of theirs is really just an anti-anti-slavery campaign?" Before she could say anything else I added, "Who are promising wealth and a hundred virgin slave girls to whoever offs you but also whoever serves you as well? So where's the confusion here?"

"We cannot accuse-" Daenerys began.

I continued, "The noblemen? The only people in this entire city who have the means to promise and convince people to rally against you? Daenerys, The only way the noblemen will actually support you is-"

"Y/N, I indulge you due to our  _long-lasting_ relationship. Do not speak to me that way again."

"Of course. Sorry, _your grace_."

Daenerys flinched as if I had slapped her but neither of us had time to react as a guy dressed like rich Jesus approached the table, guided by a few members of the Unsullied.

Excusing myself, I left the two alone and asked a guard to take me somewhere for a nap, the guilt weighing on me as eyes burnt into my back.

* * *

I wasn't expecting to arrive near a table, the only seat filled by; "Illyrio, my old friend."

"Ah, Y/N. It has been far too long," Illyrio greeted, taking my hands and placing a kiss upon the back of my right when I approached him.

"Let me guess, you're currently housing a dwarf and at least one other companion?"

"However did you guess?" Illyrio smirked, standing.

Instead of elaborating, Illyrio offered me his arm and remembering his old lesson (" _Now take my arm like a lady should and walk."_ ), I accepted silently and we began to walk down memory hallways.

* * *

As we walked through the halls, I passed the door to the room that I had once resisted being sent into;

_("I think the fuck not."_

_"Please, he has requested for you to speak with him."_

_"No. One does not simply talk to a whiny bitch that is not as fabulous as Malfoy."_

_"...I do not know what a Malfoy is so off you go."_

_Before I can react, he has opened the door and shoved me inside. As I lay sprawled on the floor I hear something whack against the outside.)_

_Ah, good times._

Soon enough, Illyrio let me go and I set forth to walking onto a veranda, a fucking massive one at that, with an upturned box and Tyrion who had stumbled out of it, presumably he could smell the wine he was currently draining, standing by Varys?

"...Where the castles are made of gingerbread and the moats are filled with blackberry wine?" Tyrion scoffed. "The powerful have always preyed on the powerless. That’s how they became powerful in the first place."

"Perhaps," Varys contended, "And perhaps we’ve grown so used to horror, we assume there’s no other way. If you sat on the Iron Throne, would you spread misery throughout the land?"

"I will never sit on the Iron Throne."

"No, you won't, but you could help another climb those steps, and take that seat." Gossip Girl paused for dramatic effect before continuing, "The Seven Kingdoms need someone stronger than Tommen, but gentler than Stannis. A monarch who can intimidate the high Lords, and inspire the people. A ruler loved by millions, with a powerful army and the right family name."

"Good luck finding him." Tyrion clearly could not be arsed, wanting nothing more than to be left alone to drink and wallow in misery.

"Who said anything about  _him_?" Varys asked. "You have a choice, my friend. You can stay here at Illyrio's palace and drink yourself to death. Or you can ride with me to Meereen, meet Daenerys Targaryen, and decide if the world is worth fighting for."

"Can I drink myself to death on the way to Meereen?" Tyrion inquired.

"If you go to Qarth can probably build that shrine you wanted to the god of tits and wine," I answer, watching the pair turn to me.

I smirked at the bald headed diva who simply frowned at the sight of me, turning back to the view of Illyrio's land with a sigh.

"Y/N, how long have you stood there?"

"Does it matter?" _I don't have a time-keeping device anymore, and I never learnt how to read the sun._

"No. I suppose not." Tyrion shrugged and at that moment the smell of his parchment like clothing wafted over to me causing me to gag.

"Fuck this!" Grabbing Tyrion's wrist, I tugged him from the rooftop to find somewhere where he could be washed or at least doused in something that didn't smell like he'd rolled in shit.

* * *

One bath later, Tyrion sat in an orange robe that draped over his entire body like he had been swaddled in it, his beard and hair less lank but still remaining bronze rather than the gold it should be.

"Cersei has offered a lordship to the man who brings her your head-" I began to inform him once he had doled out the wine.

He snorted. "She ought to offer her cunt. Best part of her for the best part of me."

"Seeing as her betrothal to Loras Tyrell still holds true and Jaime's off on another special adventure... her cunt's going to be out of commission for a while."

"Yes, out of commission even to her husband it seems, especially with his appetite," Tyrion added. Clever as he was when sober, when drunk he missed the obvious hint that his father was alive.

"Regardless of who wants to fuck Cersei-"

"Not Loras, that's for certain," Tyrion interjected with a smug grin.

"-Do you want to tell me why you've decided Illyrio's house is the best place to spend your days drowning in wine? Not that I don't approve of your hobbies..." I trailed off as he chugged his large goblet.

With a gasp, he released his mouth from the rim to reveal the red droplets that hung off of his beard. "Pardon but my thirst has grown larger than my body... not that that is a hard feat to accomplish, mind. Being trapped in a crate is trying, even for a patricidal dwarf."

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics, too used to the almost genetic trait. "I've seen the glorified pet carrier... Too many glory holes. Unless you're fisting people, there's no need for them to be that big and the journey isn't that long that you even need to resort to prostitution."

His lip twitched before he began to laugh and I joined in, feeling the tension of the world slip away - the possible deaths, being a terrible friend, the lies...

* * *

I wished I had stayed in that tension free bubble, safe from reality.

But instead, I had chosen to leave Tyrion to check up on Jon to see if 'feel me' had turned into 'molest me'.

Instead 'feel me' had turned into 'let's watch Stannis the Mannis stand by a pyre in the freezing cold doing executions in front of his wife and child'.

The child in question was stood with me at the back of the crowd, wrapped in my cloak as her mother only had eyes for the flames.

"Mance Rayder, you’ve been called the King Beyond the Wall. Westeros only has one king. Bend the knee, I promise you mercy. Kneel and live," Stannis ordered rather than offered.

The man on the pyre said nothing. His eyes bore into the depths of the crowd at a man who clutched at his wrist, a ruby glinting in the light of the fire, as he stood next to me and Shireen.

Someone stepped up, tied him to it and as that final knot was tied, Mance stared into the depths of the crowd at a man who was nothing in particular besides the ruby on his wrist that glinted in the light of the fire.

Accessorizing for a funeral as Dick was not really top of my game.

Melisandre began to walk forwards, her voice ringing out above the crowd. "Man or woman, young or old, lord or peasant, our choices are the same. We choose light, or we choose darkness. We choose good, or we choose evil. We choose the true god or the false."

_Well done, we make choices. Glad we learnt that today._

"Free folk, men of the night's watch and other!" Melisandre called attention to her standing still, a flame in the snow, picking up the flaming torch. "There is only one true king and his name is Stannis! Here stands the king of lies. Behold the fate of those who choose the darkness."

Insert shitty fire effects here because holy shit I was way too busy watching the elation on so many people's faces as they watched men burn alive.

The woman in complete red watches on, lust in her eyes as she watches the flames flicker up the self-proclaimed king.

Her gaze turns to me, mouthing something over the roar of the fire, the crackle of the snow and even the murmurs of the crowd.

I can't hear her, can't see her when I bend over and heave onto the ground

_Apricots and I do not get along. Thank fuck it wasn't the other end._


	52. What A Shame The Poor Groom's Bride Is a- (Chapter 51)

At the council table of Daenerys, I sat on the right of Daenerys next to Daario, dressed like Daenerys in a yellow dress that made Margaery look tame (an X-shape for medieval X-men that exposed everything but the titties and skirt) discussing the recent strikes of the Harpy gang.

"Sons of the Harpy, they want to put a collar back on my neck. On all of our necks. Please, Your Grace, you must kill him," a former slave named Mossador pleaded once more.

"It would send a message," Daenerys mused.

 _Yeah the message that you're a mental case like your dad._ "Or you could just as well not," I offered.

"Why?"

"Um... Information?"

"The Son of the Harpy has no more valuable information," Daario stated. "I questioned him."

"And the information you did get, he is young and poor-"  _Still not rid of the dirty sandals, huh?_

"He is born free," Mossador interrupted.

"Why should he want to bring back slavery? What did it do for him?"

"Perhaps the only thing that gave him pride was knowing that there was someone lower than he was," Daenerys mused once more.

"They pay him. Great families afraid to do a thing. They pay poor man to do it for them. Everyone knows this."

"I don't know it, and I'm the head of a great family," Flip Flops almost whined like a spoiled brat.

"Regardless, we don't actually known what he did or didn't do. Since nobody here is offering to look for clues, I suggest a trial." Turning to Daenerys, feeling her gaze had begun to linger on me, I lowered my voice. "A fair trial. You might not believe in it but it will make you look better than them."

"I do not know the place from where Old Ser comes. Things maybe are different there, I hope. But here, in Meereen, before Daenerys Stormborn, they own us. So we learn much about them or we do not live long. They teach me what they are. Mercy, fair trial: these mean nothing to them. All they understand is blood!" Mossador stressed.

Daenerys sits in silence, deeply lost in thought. Not wanting to push my boundaries I don't pinch her to draw her attention.

So we all sit in a circle in silence staring only at Daenerys. Like a bunch of dicks.

Finally, she looked up. "Thank you all for your counsel."

As if by clockwork or so much routine, everyone began to leave except Daenerys, Daario and I (tugged back down by a hand on my wrist from Daenerys' side).

"Captain Naharis, leave us," Daenerys ordered the lingering man.

We watched him leave, strutting out and twirling his daggers, whistling as he went. When the whistle began to fade down the corridor, Daenerys let go of my wrist.

"Y/N-" Daenerys began.

"Don't. I get it, you know? The pressure to act. But I have to ask, do you know what your father was like? Because although Viserys was a colossal cunt, haven't spoken to him in a while, he improved a bit. But King Aerys? He wanted the city to burn, wanted to be king of the ashes. That's not who you should want to be. You shouldn't want to be anyone but you, Dany. And if you do as they ask, as Jesus sandals bids, to be this violent tyrant who paints the streets with the blood of your enemies when not dousing them in fire... I won't know you and nor will I want to."

With that I stood, exiting to the balcony where I let myself fade away like a piece of dust in the non-existent wind.

* * *

The wind carried me to Qarth.

Rather than being greeted by Viserys sprawled like a dramatic peacock or young Thranduil with wine all over the place, the Viserys that greeted me was so different that if not for the hair and violet eyes or the babysitter I put in place, I wouldn't have known who it was.

For a long time I lingered in the background, watching the man dealing with his subjects. Unlike Daenerys, he was level with them and not dealing with gang warfare. He wasn't simperingly kind, still sarcastic and witty, but he was giving. Perhaps this is what watching a good king must be like but what would I know? The few royals I've met are jerks.

For hours I stood... okay like five minutes in I sat down... then I laid down and propped myself up... then just plain laid down... until Viserys had dismissed the last peasant (a woman who wanted to divorce her husband because he was fucking the goats).

Finally, once the room was empty of even babysitting Barristan (dismissed to stand outside as Viserys slunk down in his chair with his crown askew) I stepped out of the shadows and commented, "Nice tiara."

It wasn't. It was horrifying given the history of gold upon his head or at least the threat of it...

Viserys jolted, another sign he wasn't completely pissed, but settled with a smirk as he fixed it back into place on his ponytail-ed hair. "Fitting isn't it? Both siblings choose crowns made by the whore of a barb..." Viserys cut himself off, almost swallowing the racist bile rising up his throat before continuing, "My _sister_ had a crown wrought in the shape of a three-headed dragon, made of yellow gold, silver, jade, ivory, and onyx, whilst only having two."

As if hearing him, a wave of hot air fanned over us as a shadow passed through the sky.

"And here I thought it should be you to over-compensate~"

Instead of responding, Viserys extended his arm and an invitation. "Come, let me show you Qarth: the greatest city that will ever be."

* * *

Arm in arm we walked the streets of Qarth, gazing upon the actually working city of a Targaryen and not the hell mouth of protesting murderers that Daenerys was running. As we walked, instead of speaking about the beautiful sights or the free nipples, Viserys occasionally spoke about his dragon; Viserion.

He hadn't changed the name.

Not willing to keep nodding along, as fun as pet dragons are except when they're busy burning children, I complimented,  "The city seems to be thriving under you. I'm really impressed. You've come so far from the brat who believed me to be a whore."

Viserys  chuckled lightly before replying, "And you have come far from the woman who dared to tempt the dragon..."

As Viserys was leading me, when he stopped before a stall, I tripped to a stop, catching myself on Viserys' sleeve. The trip that had twisted my ankle didn't keep my attention long though.

Instead it was the offered dough treat passed to me by the woman.

"Pizza!" I scooped up the poor but heartwarming imitation and cradled it in my hands, showing some self restraint from scarfing down the food. "You remembered..."

"Save it," Viserys ordered before saying something to the lady in a foreign language that caused her to take the treat from my hand.

And then we moved on, walking back to the palace with my pizza in a small bag, the warmth of it comforting against my thigh.

* * *

A bottle of wine and the pizza later, Viserys and I had sat down to speak about business;

"And why would I accept a Lannister?"

"Have you not accepted me?"

"Are you still a Lannister?"

"What is a Lannister... Okay, I'm going to quit this question game play." "The truth is; Tywin was shot with a crossbow at close range by Tyrion. He'd be a valuable asset as the gods seem to favour him. Maybe not with the usual gifts of height and beauty such as you but his intelligence is yet to be matched nor his luck. He survived trial by combat twice, albeit with different champions each time."

"Ah, yes. I did hear about that: the crumbling of the Mountain. I'm only sorry I couldn't have seen it - another barbarian who deserves the death he was dealt. That still doesn't convince me."

"So what would?"

Viserys' smirk grew, a cruel wine-coloured slashed across his face and his eyes a deep purple as he clicked his fingers.

From across the room, Barristan approached with a pomegranate and a knife before passing them to the King of Qarth.

"You promised a long time ago that for six moons' worth of dreams in whatever world you return to, you will return to my side. You sealed that with the seeds of the pomegranate." He finished the cutting open the pomegranate and offered me half once more. "For what you ask of me, I will accept for another six months. Do you accept?"

* * *

Returning to King's Landing slightly hangover the day before Cersei's wedding to Loras - the look of bitterness she wore was more sour than any wine she could down - after settling any economic affairs, I was brought to a room with an embroidery circle in hand.

"Have you spoken to your Lord Husband recently, my lady?" Lady Tanda inquired, a guest of her daughter in the capital. Currently she sat across from me in the sewing circle that Cersei had also been forced into, perched precariously next to me so as to be away from Margaery on my left.

The traitorous bastard's name sent maggots crawling under my skin, worsened by the stretched red line of her lips that was a few teeth away from a feral snarl.

"What about him?" I stabbed into the fabric of my embroidery pallet, a simple tapestry we all were partaking in for Cersei's wedding. A glass of wine seemed in appropriate given Joffrey's death so I was just stitching a lion with cubs.

"Surely you're not the last one to hear?" Margaery asked as if in rhetoric.

"Apparently," Cersei drawled, not looking up from her stitch work of what appears to be a golden lion maiming a golden rose, "the letter you sent out informing Aunt Genna of her brother's _tender_ state has been spread far and wide. So far and wide in fact that people believe my father to be dead despite the lack of a funeral."

"And?" _These lion cubs were going to end up stained red from my palm if I keep catching my skin._

"And as a widow, my lady, especially of such a _prosperous_ title... Your hand is readily available."

"So?"

"In order to prove those rumours to be false..."

Cersei didn't get a chance to speak as Alis bustled into the room, her sister shadowing her. Quickly bowing, Alis stepped forward to address me and deliver some semblance of news.

"My lady, this is for you." A scroll was placed into my hand.

I didn't even have to open the scroll, the wax stamp crimson and stamped with the Lannister sigil.

Taking a deep breath, I bid, "Will you please excuse me for a moment?"

Without waiting, I stand and walk out from the room into the halls, down the stairs and into the currently empty gardens to throw back my head and screech; "FUCK!"

* * *

Apparently, a new dress had been commissioned for Cersei's wedding day - not by me, I was enjoying the sweet life of just not giving two turtle shits - and I was soon strapped into the sheer red gown with a cut through the cleavage to show the upper side of one boob and the under-boob of the other.

It would have been easier to just head straight in to the sept alone but as I had avoided the breakfast (the sewing was too much), and needed to do one dutiful thing; greet the guests. So I stood waiting at the steps of Baelor, careful not to stand near the nonexistent blood stains that were burnt into my eyes from Ned.

After a stream of people from Oberyn (who lives here already so I just said hi) and co., the Flints of Flint's finger, the Caron's of Nightsong (apparently my next door neighbors in the Reach) and many other people I don't think I've ever seen before, a brown carriage with green decorations pulled up.

Before I could step towards the Tyrell carriage, the door being opened to reveal Olenna grimacing, the sound of horse hooves steadily making their way towards me caught my attention.

Tywin rode his white warhorse forward; elegant as always. His riding leathers were a deep blood red like the red of my own dress and I simply watched as he strode closer.

At Tywin's side, almost interweaving his body between the horse's legs, Grey Wind looked entirely tame with a decadent golden collar around his neck.

"My lord husband," I greeted once he paused before me, the horse turned so the side faced me.

"My lady wife," Tywin replied. He offered me a hand as if to help me onto the horse before him.

Instead I bent down as he straightened, beginning to ruffle Grey Wind's fur regardless of the long hairs bound to come off on my dress.

"So  _good_  to see you in good health."  _It wasn't but I'm not going to cause a scene._

We were interrupted by a boisterous roar from behind Tywin that caused him to turn from me, allowing me to see the cause of the commotion.

A large woman was being fussed over as she attempted to get down from her carriage without help, slapping the offered hands of footmen that rushed forward when another was brushed away.

Finally knocking one young squire down, she landed heavy-footed upon the ground, her large skirt creating a wide perimeter as if the sight of it was a ring of blood from the squire's families.

The only signs she wasn't a Lannister were the Frey Sigil encased in a large pendant swinging between her heaving breasts and the pin of the house that sat opposite the Lannister sigil.

"You must be my good sister," Genna stated in way of greeting after she had stomped over.

"Lady Genna," I greeted with a respectful nod as I rose to stand, brushing my dress off as I did.

"Emmon could not make the trip. As the new Lord of Riverrun he is awfully busy, much like my brother  _should_  be as hand of the king if it wasn't for the attack. At least Jaime was the ever dutiful son... There he is now."

With a shitty short hair cut and an almost leather jacket look, Jaime came riding up with his golden hand and leapt off before hurrying inside.

"Now, shall we head inside? Or would you like to change?" I inquired.

* * *

After their changing, we stood inside the sept of Baelor awaiting Cersei's arrival to the sept, Tywin standing at my side before the statue of the Mother and the Tyrells on the opposite side of the steps, below Loras.

Finally, the doors to the sept swung open.

With all of the grace of a constipated elephant, Cersei marched down the aisle with her nose in the air. Despite how beautiful her golden dress was (not white because who'd believe she's a virgin even without the kids?), a cascade of emeralds and rubies lining the back of it much like roses had upon Margaery's, she still managed to make it look like the cheapest fabric available as she let it drag behind her.

Across from me I could see Olenna rolling her eyes and had to bite my tongue not to laugh. Margaery appeared to be doing the same in her beautiful emerald dress that seemed to overly appeal to Tommen as his gaze kept flicking back to it. Perhaps he gained a massive interest in fashion or perhaps it was the large cleavage revealing cuts in the dress.

Loras was remarkably pretty, dressed in a fine pale gold that shone green in the sunlight that broken through the windows of the sept but it was Willas in an emerald tunic who rested heavily upon a decorated cane (a smooth rose carved head for the handle) who kept my attention.

Well until Cersei reached the steps.

Extending a hand to Cersei politely, Loras didn't seem that bothered that she almost snapped at it. Instead he smiled softly as if he was a man in love and let the crowd titter and gossip about how he deserved better.

As Loras spoke calmly, Cersei spat out her vows as she seethed, staring down the septon with the eyes of a lion watching it's next meal when already satiated - cruel and devoid of much interest than pain.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," the septon ordered, looking uneasy at Cersei's sharpened gaze.

With a flourish, Loras drew the cloak off of her shoulders and replaced it with the emerald of the Reach.

"Thank fuck that's over," I muttered.

* * *

It wasn't over. In fact it got worse. Significantly.

At the feast, Cersei began to drink her weight in wine and I had done the same when Tywin was sat next to me. Each time he began to start a conversation with me, I was wishing for Tywin and drowning myself in wine until everything felt numb.

Only when someone roared for the 'bedding ceremony' to occur did I blink back into consciousness, watching girls swarm Loras and men back away from Cersei (either because of her almost bared teeth or Tywin's) and once they disappeared, Tywin offered me his arm.

_Oh no..._

_It's about to get so much worse..._


	53. Captain East Can Go South (Chapter 52)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @greenisacolor2; thank you so much for the idea for part of this chapter. Sorry you had to wait 141 days for it.

I had prepared myself, the long walk to the Tower of the Hand that was still being cleaned up, to have a go at Tywin, to really rip into him. Hell, I would even let Grey Wind fight him and get rid of that stupid collar.

But was I surprised anymore, at the buffoonery of men?

No.

So instead, I stopped a little ways past the entrance to Maegor's holdfast, and declared, "Tywin, you may find your own bed. This time, if a whore's in it, your son won't cockblock you." With that, I turn and storm off.

* * *

Furious as I was, I don't realise where my feet have taken me until I end up in the Red Keep's library.

I hadn't spent much time here previously, any books I actually wanted were bought for me and whilst Tyrion was rumored to be in here when he wasn't in a whore or a whore house, if I had needed him I would have sent someone to get him or sent an invitation.

This wasn't where I wanted to be, trapped by memories and the king's records, so I let my feet carry me up to a balcony.

"You looked very handsome at your brother's wedding," I complimented as way of greeting the other person leaning against the cane and looking down into the gardens.

I didn't get a reply so after a few seconds, I looked up at Willas' face.

Despite the bad lighting, it was easy to see the way his face burnt, like he'd been splashed with pink paint.

"I've made you uncomfortable. I'll just go. I'm sorry if I'm intruding-"

"No, no," Willas reassured me quickly, turning to look at me, "You're not. I am just... surprised to see you here... in my rooms."

I cast a quick glance back into the room, noticing the Tyrell sigil over the trunks, clothes and whatnot.

"Do you want to sit down and talk?" Willas offered me a hand, taking his cane with the other and stood at full height.

I smiled and placed my hand in his, letting myself be lead to a small lounger in the middle of the room.

Willas slowly eased himself onto the lounger, the back and side supporting him. The soft colour of it lit his eyes up like freshly plucked mint and the warmth of summer, and shifted himself until his bad leg was laid upon the small pouffe that was usually used by me to place spare shoes upon when a shoe-maker came. As he reclined back, laying his cane against his knee, a small sigh of comfort escaped his lips.

I sat down next to him slowly, pulling out my skirts until they fanned out.

In comfortable silence we sat next to one another for a while before Willas finally offered to break the ice. "I have a meeting with the Master of International Affairs tomorrow."

"Oberyn Martell?"

"Yes. He proposed it actually otherwise I would not have attended the weddings no matter how much grandmother wishes to use it to match me with someone. Ever since _the_ joust," he gestured to his leg as he said this, "we spoke often through our letters. Apparently there's a need for falcons and the imports of the Reach to be discussed."

I hummed in positive. What I should have said was, 'That's nice' or 'wow, you came to this shithole for Oberyn Martell?' but what came out was; "Have you found someone?"

"Grandmother tried but none appealed to me. They all seemed lovely but..." Willas trailed off, a gentle hand slowly reaching for my own but he quickly snapped it back as he announced to himself, "Oh that reminds me."

Willas leaned over to the nearby table and retrieved a small leather bound book.

"I wasn't sure if you would ever see Highgarden again so I brought this to read together... that is if you want to."

I quirked a small smile at him, sending roses blooming in his cheeks once more and shuffled closer.

Willas let his arm slowly curl around my shoulder, almost hesitantly, his fingers light upon my collarbone.

As he read about all of the flowers and their meanings, meanings I had already learnt, I leant my head upon his shoulder. His breathing quickened but he remained calm, his tone even as he read from the book.

It was more comfortable with Willas as it always had been, even after all this time, I remained... fond of him. Was it wrong of me to want that of him? Probably.

To distract myself, I watched Willas as he read.

Willas' hair was almost Targaryen in the moonlight, all traces of gold gone and I felt even more comfortable with him than I usually did. So comfortable in fact, I felt myself sinking more into his side as he read, his eyes flicking over to me every few words, and slowly drifted off in his warm embrace.

* * *

The next morning I had woken up still glued to Willas' side, his head rested on mine and his arm warming my shoulders, a gentle palm supporting my head and keeping it steady as Willas' own laid against the lounger.

A simple kiss on the cheek, so close to his lips, was all I left him with before I disappeared from his rooms.

* * *

"The dragon queen!"

The call jolted me awake, making me grapple with the ratty silk bed covers I was tucked against and clamber to my feet.

Stumbling around, an arm covering my mouth and nose to block out the heavy perfume, I brushed through maze-like corridors until I came into a room filled with wooden chairs, tables and men.

It's not Daenerys. It looks a bit like her, the blue dress she wore in Qarth but the long blonde hair was longer than hers had ever gotten especially when back in those days it was simply sprouts of white gold upon her scalp.

And watching her as he skirts out of the room, past a Tyrion-less Varys, is Jorah.

My attention is pulled away by the rousing call of, "...Stormbringer!"

I thought my cover was blown or an equally hot lady would be brought out behind the now bent over dragon queen look alike.

Instead it was that fucker from Austenland. With glistening chocolate skin and a chin strap outlining his manly jaw, a horse cock swinging between his legs, and an arse so tight that if a lump of coal were put up there for an hour, it would produce a diamond, it was clear this was the hero of lore most people dreamed of.

Would I want to be portrayed my other way? No.

Do I want to watch my metaphorical dick go in and out of my friend? Fuck no.

Especially not when I can't see Jorah anymore.

Wanting to escape from the sight of the Stormbringer's mighty blade penetrating the magic Dragon Queen, I stop a nearby woman about to sit on the lap (and dick) of a guy with a fly on his temple and ask if she's seen a dwarf.

Instead of answering me verbally she grabs his dick and points it to the open doorway to my right.

With a quick 'thanks' thrown back, I step through the perfumed halls, past heavily curtained doorways until I end up outside.

There, leaning against the wall was Tyrion with his back to me. Having a piss.

Blearily he looks up at me with a confused smile barely visible under his messy pube beard and I sigh.

"Put your dick away. We've got to go now unless you want Jorah to sell you for his dick to get warm by the girl who's getting plowed by fake me back there."

He doesn't move, still shaking his dick before tucking it in and brushing his hands on his trousers.

A glimpse of Jorah in my peripheral vision, stalking closer with a bag in hand, leads me to grabbing onto Tyrion's shoulder and instead of steering him once more, I focus on anywhere out of his reach.

* * *

"Ta dah!" I cry out as I appear before Viserys who was apparently in the middle of the bath, no disco stick riders involved but Ser Barristan was washing his hair.

Feeling a wave of heatstroke hit me, or the results of the concussion on the floor, I warned the knight approaching me and the drunken dwarf, "I'm going to need an ambulance."

Then the ground rushes to greet me.

* * *

Cersei and Tommen walked together, her arm around his. A group of guards walk behind them. I walk behind them like a creep. Not to stalk them but because they were walking along the battlements I had landed upon and I wanted to get inside quickly because it was hot in the midday sun.

"You look very much in love," Cersei finally says after quite a while of walking in silence. "The first days of marriage are often so blissful. She's certainly very pretty, is she not? Like a doll, she smiles quite a lot. Do you think she's intelligent? I can't quite tell. Not that it matters.""

"Do you ever miss Casterly Rock?" Tommen, master of topic changes.

"There's nothing for me in Casterly Rock."

"That's where you grew up." Tommen pulls them to a stop. "You always told me that you liked the people there better. You said that King's Landing smelled of horse dung and sour milk."

Cersei chuckles fondly before asking, "Why are we speaking of Casterly Rock?"

"The way that you talked about it, I always thought that you missed it. That you... That it was your real home."

"This is my real home now. Where my family lives." A gentle hand is placed on Tommen's cheek as Cersei smiles softly up at her son.

"I want you to be happy, mother."

"I know that. I know you do, my sweet boy."

Tommen sighed before inquiring, "But wouldn't you be happier in Casterly Rock? With Y-grandmother and grandfather?"

Before I could choke to death or choke him, my attention was caught by the call of my name.

Margaery quickly caught up to me, linking my arm with hers, almost childishly pouting. "You missed my wedding~"

"Apologies but..."  _At the rate you're going it's not like you'll not get another one?_

Margaery cut me off as I flailed for an excuse beyond shit being complicated. "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that you make it up to me..."

* * *

Making it up to Margaery was not an intimate talk between the two of us.

Instead I was brought into the fold of her friendship group who seemed to actually want to be my friends despite me not knowing their names and probably never seeing the Highgarden ladies ever again.

Margarey was currently telling the story of her wedding night. "...I said, 'Darling, surely 4 times is enough, are you trying to set a new record?' And he said, 'Well, what is the record? I'm sure we can break it.'"

Margaery's friends laugh with her as I sit in awkward silence wondering how fake this is considering Tommen's age. I know puberty really gets boys jizzing all over the place but I've barely met any men who can give a woman an orgasm, much less four.

The laughter soon stops as the door is opened and Cersei is greeted with standing bows by the rest of Margaery's friends.

"Mother!" Margaery beams, swanning over to Cersei and hugging her to Cersei's apparent distaste. "Welcome."

"Don't you look lovely. Marriage agrees with you." Translation: You should be used to it considering this is your third one.

"Can we bring you anything to eat or drink?" Margaery offered, finally letting Cersei go. "I wish we had some wine for you. It's a bit early in the day for us."

_No it's not._

"No, no. I, I can't stay. I just wanted to let you know if, there is ever anything I can do for you."

"You are very sweet." Translation:  _You're a lying cunt, what do you want?_

"Tommen seems quite taken with his new queen," Cersei commented softly.

"I absolutely adore him. You raised a gallant young man. I'm forever grateful."

"Good. Good. I'm glad to hear you're happy."

"Ecstatic. I really am. Exhausted, to be honest, but what can I expect, he is half lion, half stag."

I gagged whilst Margaery's gaggle laughed.

"I'll leave you to it then," Cersei said, turning to leave.

Margaery stopped her with a sly grin. "Oh, forgive me, I haven't been at Court for long, I get so confused. What's the proper way to address you now? Queen Mother or Dowager Queen?"

Cersei could barely hide a smile, even under her court mask. "There's no need for such formalities."

"In any event, judging from the King's enthusiasm, the Queen Mother will be a Queen Grandmother soon."

"Won’t that be a lovely day." Cersei is strained more than the budget at this point.

"Can you imagine the celebrations? They'll ring the bells all day and night," I call, smirking at the look of distaste I get in reply from Cersei.

"Remember. Anything you need," Cersei promises before finally leaving.

The gaggle soon folds back into itself and I sit back and watch the ladies talk shit whilst I lunch.

 

But it wasn't long before I excused myself to the bathroom and went elsewhere. 

* * *

When the water greeted me, I waited for a voice. Any voice. The voice of the Drowned God, the voice of a lifeguard even the voice of a racially ambiguous alien. Perhaps it's the first sign of madness, waiting for what you expect but no one else does. Or perhaps this is the most original thought I've had in a long time.

I wasn't drowning. Laying at the bottom of a mass of water, a stark grey sky above me, staring unblinking as the surface never rippled or bubbled with my breath, never 

As I floated there, I couldn't concentrate on anything. It was almost like my life was slipping away...

 _To die is a mercy. To live is to suffer._ It wasn't a voice, per-say. It was like listening to my own voice on a recording and overlapped by the voices of friends, family, enemies, and people I had never met.  _Wouldn't it be easier to drown? To open your mouth and let the water trickle into your lungs and slowly drag you down to sleep upon the floor for ever more? Wouldn't it be sweeter to drift away than watch the strife and fire around you? To forget all the politics, the pain, the love, the betrayal and the-_

 _But..._  It was just my voice this time, sounding so sad and dreary as it floated in the air left behind by the cacophony.  _But sometimes death is too easy. Sometimes you just need a sign to realise that you've got to get up and-_

Something rippled the water, bringing my attention to the quick glimpse of a hand skimming along the edge of the water with a small bowl in hand.

Taking this as my sign, I finally managed to place a foot on the floor and my body swung up until it was standing in a pool of water that came up to my waist.

Striding forwards towards the edge of the pool, I barely realised the hand and whoever it must belong to had gone.

Almost as if trying to urge me back, the white shift I was wearing dragged along the water and weighed me down but I continued on, not succumbing to the surprise of it that almost forced my knees to buckle.

The edge of the pool was cool under my bare feet as I stepped onto it, bracing myself before hopping down slightly from it and landing onto the floor with a light plop. A small puddle formed under my feet as I stood there, staring at the almost familiar statue that stood before me as an equal, meeting my eyes with it's bare sockets.

Death, as always, stood alone.

Beyond it and I, I knew the rest of the Seven stood but unlike the Stranger, they would loom, too far out of my reach. I didn't have to turn to realise that, having it proved even more by the statues that shrouded the hallowed hall; a pale white maiden, a mermaid man with a crown, and more that frowned down at me.

"What is it you want with me?" I found myself asking, calling out into the darkness where I knew others lurked.

In Death, I suppose my equal was met because I wasn't wise, or a man, or anything really. I wasn't a heartthrob, I was a fascination; a foreign object desired because it was unknown.

So to the Stranger alone, I asked, "If I am to die, make it now. Make it now I'm alone."

The statue said nothing in reply, because it's a fucking statue, and I sighed.

I looked away, gazing around at the towering figures of women, men, monsters and even pillars that inhabited the space around the clear pool.

When I flicked my gaze back, even the Stranger had moved to hang over the pool with rest of it's pantheon and I sighed once more, tired of my own impending madness.

In silence I stood for a while, staring at the images of Gods as I wondered how irritating I have to be, how miserable I have to get before I'm sent to a world with real toilet paper and not the shitty stuff I've tried to produce. How-

"Y/N?"

Spinning around to look at the voice was not my best option as I slipped on the wet floor and slammed head first into the floor when my legs got tied up by the long dress.

Once again on my back, against the advice of most therapists I suppose, I stared up at the slowly disappearing face of Arya frantically grabbing onto my face and calling for help.

* * *

"...Y/N! Y/N!"

My eyelids fluttered open

"Shireen?" I managed to croak out, attempting to sit up. I clutched the blanket tighter around me, an almost exact match to the one she had leant me when we met. Shivering, I could barely pay attention to what feel from her lips.

"Jon..." I croaked out finally.

Shireen nodded determinedly, pulling me up with the help of Nymeria's nudging me and she began to lead me through Castle Black.

Instead of going towards the training yard or even Jeor's offices in the King's tower where Jon could have been serving the new Lord Commander, Shireen tugged me towards the armory. More specifically the modest rooms behind it.

Shireen knocked on the door thrice before receiving a positive response in a voice I didn't recognise.

The door was pulled open by a small round-ish boy with freckles and a bored look on his face who quickly moved to let Shireen and I through.

Jon didn't look up from his desk where he signed a piece of parchment before passing it to a Kylo Ren looking kid, with beautiful dark eyes, soft looking skin and black hair in curly ringlets.

As he releases the paper, Jon finally looks up and his gaze catches on my figure still attached to Shireen's tiny hand.

As if snapping himself out of a daze, Jon's voice is hoarse when he finally orders, "Olly, outside." To the taller, more feminine looking boy he ordered, "Satin, take Shireen back to her mother."

"Yes, Lord Commander," they reply in unison with Satin taking Shireen's other hand as she releases mine.

Her babbles carry away from the room, Lady's soft panting a response on it's own.

"Lord Commander?" I echo, glancing around at the modesty of the room; the barrenness of it all before looking at him properly. "With how stressed you look, you'll get as white as Jeor in no time."

He tried a smile but it looked pitiful upon his face, the shadows under his eyes seemed to haunt the rest of his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, moving to sit on his desk. On the edge I turned to him and asked once more, "What's wrong?"

"I have to admit, there's been much on my mind..."

"What? Who?" I find myself babbling wondering if my ill-thought out schemes are going to come tumbling down because of Jon's observation skills and recognizing Shireen's direwolf. "Visenya the direwolf that looks eerily similar to Sansa's dead direwolf that she received minutes after the 'execution' of the dog by me which should be impossible-"

"I meant the deal but if you mean to tell me-"

"What deal?" I interrupt.

Jon concedes to the topic change, beginning, "If the Night's Watch rallies behind Stannis Baratheon, makes him the king, I'll... I'll be made a Stark in truth..."The way he trails off is ominous, looking deeply uncomfortable as if he's about to fidget.

"There are other conditions, aren't there?"

"After interfering with the burning of Mance Rayder, his conditions increased and the Red Priestess didn't help. Winterfell will only be mine to take... once I burn down the Godswood."

I thought about it for a few seconds, choosing my words carefully before I began; "You've considered it - the one thing you've always wanted it but deep down you know you can't do it. You're a good man, Jon. You may not be Eddard Stark's son in name, but you do him proud. That's all the truth you need." I place a gentle palm on Jon's face, stroking at the line of his beard with a gloved thumb.

"And what about Stannis?" Jon inquires, stern as stone despite melting into my palm. "If I refuse to help him, he'll take his men elsewhere and we need them, Y/N, for what is to come."

"It's better to keep your enemies close and in your control than out of reach."

Before any more words can be passed between us, the door is opened once more and I l let my palm drop away.

"Lord Commander. My lady."

Jon stands to greet Stannis the Mannis. "Your Grace."

I nod in his direction.

Stannis watches Olly warily, standing in the doorway and watching eagle-eyed, before he stated, "I'd like to speak alone."

"Olly is my steward now, as I was Lord Commander Mormont's. I want him to attend my meetings, to learn from men with experience. One day, he might command. Her ladyship is welcome also."

Jon's upturned hand placed on the desk placed next to my skirt is easy for me to place my own on top of and squeeze tightly.

"Very well." Jon and Stannis sit opposite sides of the desk whilst I keep my back to Stannis on the desk but facing him. "Have you considered my offer?"

"I have. And I thank you for it. You do me great honor. All my life I wanted to be Jon Stark-"

"Say the word and you will be," Stannis interrupted Jon and I tightened my grip on Jon's hand, begging him to not give in to the dark side.

"-But I have to refuse you. I'm Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. My place is here."

"I'm giving you a chance to avenge your family. To take back the castle where you grew up. To rule the North!"

"I wish I could fight beside you. Believe me, I do. But I swore a sacred vow at the Godswood. I pledged my life to the Night's Watch."

"You're as stubborn as your father. And as honorable," Stannis retorted.

"I can imagine no higher praise," Jon remarked.

"I didn't mean it as praise. Honor got your father killed." Stannis stood with such force his chair threatened to topple backwards. "But if your mind’s made up, I won't try to persuade you."

"May I ask, _Your Grace_ , how long you plan to stay at Castle Black?" I finally ask, hoping to take some of the heat from Jon.

"Are you bored of us already, my lady?" _I have been here 5 minutes and I know for certain that I am._

Jon decided to white knight it and take over once more. "You saved us from Mance Rayder's army. We will never forget that. But it's a question of survival. The Night's Watch can't continue to feed your men and the wildling prisoners indefinitely. Winter is coming."

"I know it. We march on Winterfell within the fortnight. Before the snows trap us here."

"And the wildlings?"

"They'd rather burn than fight for me, so be it. I leave their fate to you. You could execute them, that's the safest course." He paused. After a moment he proposed, "Or you could see if this Tormund fellow is more willing to compromise than Mance ever was. I assume the brothers of the Night's Watch would rather see the wildlings dead."

"Most of the brothers, yes. There's little love for the free folk here."

Gee, who knew? Other than me watching Olly's stare burn into Jon's head like he's trying to explode it with his mind.

"You're the Lord Commander. Your decision." Stannis stood to leave but instead of immediately walking out of the door Olly held open for him, revealing Davos who wasn't in prison, he inquired, "You have many enemies in Castle Black. Have you considered sending Alliser Thorne elsewhere? Give him command of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea."

"I heard it was best to keep your enemies close."

"Whoever said that didn't have many enemies."

_Bitch yes the fuck I do._

Finally Stannis left and Davos slipped through the door just as Jon squeezed my hand, standing once more and letting it go as he began to pace.

"He sees something in you," Davos announced, making Jon look up from his pacing. "Might not be apparent from his tone, but it's the truth. He believes in you."

"I'm sorry I disappointed him." He very clearly was not.

Davos walks forward and takes a seat, Olly closes the door again as Davos begins, "The king is a complicated man. But he wants what's right for the Seven Kingdoms."

"As long as he's ruling them," Jon added.

Davos' jaw clenched before he stated, "He's the one true king. He has the blood right to that throne."

"I’ve sworn to stay clear of the politics of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Have you now?" Davos turned to Olly and asked, "How does the Night's Watch vow go again? I bet you've got it memorized since you got here."

Olly looks to Jon. Jon looks at him, crosses his arms, and nods, leaning against the wall.

"Night gathers and now my watch begins -"

"Not that bit, the bit at the end."

"I'm the sword in the darkness, the watcher on the walls, the shield that guards the realm of men. I pledge my life-" Olly's recital was interrupted by the wave of a fingerless hand.

"Wait, that's enough. 'The shield that guards the realm of men.' That's what you swore to be. Now I'm not a learned man, but the best way of helping the most people might not be sitting in a frozen castle at the edge of the world. It just might mean wading in the muck, getting your boots dirty, and doing what needs to be doing."

"And what needs to be done?" I inquire.

"As long as the Boltons rule the North," Davos stood as he declared this, "the North will suffer. Just one man's opinion."

With a sharp nod, the man turned to leave and Jon moved back to sit at his desk with a deep sigh.

"A decision's got to be made, Jon," I finally announced when I decided it was my own time to leave, patting Jon on the shoulder as I stood. "Whatever you choose, it's going to hurt someone."


	54. Liquid Grapes and Chicken Tikka (Chapter 53)

Wine in hand, I watched the city with Daenerys, overlooking the tall balcony to stare at people the size of ants wandering the streets down below.

_Have never wanted to sing from the Hunchback of Notre Dame soundtrack more..._

Instead of bursting into song, I simply leant against the balcony, foot propping me up and gazed at Daenerys' face.

Dressed in a white wrapped gown, a cape upon her shoulders that fluttered in the light wind, I realised how much had changed in the years. Her face had sharpened and her eyes were a galaxy; flecks of wildfire racing through her iris, running alongside shoots of wine and slashes of violet unlike the pale lilac I remembered meeting long ago. Her hair had grown, not as much as her brother's who had hair down his back, so far, it was reaching her clavicle. From the few braids I had done at her insistence rather than the maid who was previously _servicing_  her, a few strands had slipped out and were glints of champagne in a sea of pearl-

The door to the balcony was opened with a loud creak and I flicked my gaze away as Daenerys turned to me and then the door, the Unsullied soldiers letting Missandei slip through.

In her hands was a bound scroll and Daenerys' gaze narrowed upon the glimpse of the ribbon. With a wave of her hand, she gestured for me to take it.

The scroll was passed to me by Missandei who nodded at Daenerys before retreating back into the room to wait.

Pulling the gold ribbon stamped with the seal of Qarth, I unrolled the luxurious parchment and read the words written in gold-flecked ink before summarizing them;

"The people of Yunkai are doing incredibly well. They adore your brother who visits them often atop his dragon. He's also introduced new delicacies to the cities that have made him even more popular. Qarth is also flourishing. The only complaint the people of either city have is-"

"-My ruling," Daenerys finished for me.

"Apparently you've not done much to keep an alliance and the cities are making enough off of trade with the Seven Kingdoms that they could fund the Iron Bank if they wanted to, so they would have you prove your commitment."

"Prove? What do I have to prove?" Daeanerys began to rant, "Was freeing them from the bonds of slavery not enough proof? Is not my devotion to seeing the people free from this disease of mankind not enough? Is-"

I cut her off. "A marriage was suggested to Viserys by his counselors. Um... I have no idea who these people are."

I tilted the scroll in my hands up, squinting at the list of names offered.

Daenerys peered over my shoulder, resting her head there as she did, her breath warming my neck, before withdrawing and stating, "The only reasonable offer I can see is Hizdahr zo Loraq due to his links to the city, trade and his providence in Ghiscari cities. Even the Green Grace advised it."

I raised an eyebrow, not really knowing who the Green Grace was, but also wanting Daenerys to say the title that I'd given him.

With a disappointed look, she uttered dejectedly, "...Jesus sandals."

"Oh! That guy! Yeah, he has the most titles: Scion of Ghis, Octarch of the Old Empire..." I cut myself with a snort that turns into laughter.

"What is it?"

"Hizdahr of the tepid kisses!" I almost howled, dropping the scroll and placing my wine aside as I laughed.

Daenerys' eyes turn owlish in disbelief, peering over my shoulder again before she joins in the laughter as well.

After a while, our laughter had died down and we rested against each other, the tension leaving us without the professional support. In the silence, we wheezed before our breathing calmed into nothing more than the gentle breeze.

"It was nice to laugh with you again," she finally said, placing a gentle hand on my cheek as I turned to her, her ring surprising cool as she stroked it along my cheek-

Then Daario strolled in.

Jumping apart, I picked up my wine and the scroll as she rested coolly against the stone.

Daario didn't comment on the newfound awkwardness. "Your Grace, my lady, Hizdahr is here, waiting in your audience chamber."

"How many others are there?" Daenerys inquired, professional as if she hadn't been about to fall over at the idea of a future husband of hers giving bored kisses despite having two bastard children.

"Fifty. A hundred." He shrugged nonchalantly.

Daenerys hummed before turning to me. "Will you be joining us, Y/N?"

"Do you have enough wine? Or food to keep me blabbing?"

* * *

Now sat in the audience chamber with enough grapes and liquid grapes to rival Cersei's wet dreams that don't involve her family members, I sat back and snacked, watching Jesus sandals promote his shitty event that could rival Dashcon or any following cons;

"All men must die. But not all can die in glory."

"Glory?" Missandei echoed.  _I agree, it is a shitty tag line._

"Why else do men fight?" _Money._  "Why did your ancestors cross the Narrow Sea and conquer the Seven Kingdoms?"  _General madness caused by incest._ "So their names would live on. Those who find victory in the fighting pits, will never become kings, but their names will live on. It's the best chance they'll ever have."

"Is that what you used to tell men before you set them to butchering each other for sport?" Daenerys was ice in the face of Hizdahr's enthusiasm.

"Your Grace, today is the traditional start of the fighting season-"

"I do not recognize this tradition," Daenerys coldly declared.

"Traditions are the only thing that will hold this city, your city, together. Without them, former slaves and former masters have nothing in common. Nothing but centuries of mistrust and resentment. I can't promise this is the answer to all our problems, but it's a start." With that he stood, bowed, then left the room.

Daenerys thawed out with each step he took before asking me, "And how do you view this _barbaric_ sport?"

"The way I see it, the Harpy people are just cultural fanatics. Denying them further is going to cause more riots and deaths. Plus, whilst it's barbaric as all hell, even Daario's said it benefited him." Grabbing my goblet I bring it to my lips and begin to chug.

Finished, I wipe my lips. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to drink off my liquid grapes." Saluting with the now drained goblet, I stand and slowly wobble away before collapsing on the floor just outside the chamber.

* * *

Re-convening with Emma, who had lured me to the gardens away from my stash of wine, I nodded along to her statistics about the business.

"...The royal warrant has increased the sales of shoes and an increase in sales has occurred since the Queen's family came into power, meaning the Tyrell green is becoming fashionable. However..." Emma cut herself off, snapping her book shut.

Looking behind me at the tall figure of the dark, handsome woman I realised why. Standing to greet her, I vacated my chair in the pavilion.

"Chataya. Good to see you."

"And you as well. But I didn't come for a social call." Her gold bangles jangled as she lifted her long skirts to step up the pavilion steps and get out of the hot sun.

"And what is it you desire in return for this news?"

"Your _side businesses_ seem to be doing remarkably well."  _Ah yes, that time I began to be a drug lord rivaling Nigel from the SpaceDogs AU._   _God Mads could dick me down..._ "Perhaps a chance to sell them amongst my own places of work now that Lord Baelish' brothels seem to be fading just as the leaves are as we near winter."

"Done. Emma will convene with us as soon as you tell me this news."

Emma nodded at me before leaving the pavilion, taking her books with her as she left to take a quick walk around the bushes nearby.

Chataya took Emma's vacated seat. "The mockingbird has flown back to speak with the Queen Mother." From her elegant sleeve she slipped out a scroll, exposing the Bolton sigil. "Apparently, Arya Stark has been returned to Winterfell, sold off to Roose Bolton's bastard, in place of the old allegiance with the Lannisters that died when Tywin 'died'. But that is not all... Lady Tyrell has been seen in his company as well, discussing what I could not say. However, from my knowledge, the last time they spoke in a pleasure house was a day before the King's death."

"Thank you for this Chataya." Emma popped back around from the bushes, approaching steadily, so I slipped the scroll up my skirt and slipped it into the holder on my leg brace.

"Now, onto business." From Emma's larger book, a smaller leather bound book was withdrawn and plopped in front of me.

* * *

Business done and over with, I left Emma to deal with business once more, and headed to the small council chamber.

When I arrived, it was to slink down in a seat between Willas and Oberyn who both greeted me with smiles, one lewder than the other.

"The Iron Bank has called one tenth of the Crown's debts. Given the expense of rebuilding the royal -"

"How much can the Crown afford?" Willas inquired.

"With winter coming, half what they ask. Less," Cersei answered honestly before pausing on the spot and turning to Willas. "You're standing in for your father as Master of Coin-"

"-Just as you're standing in for your father as Hand," I mutter.

"I believe you must go to the Iron Bank and arrange a better deal-" Cersei was cut off by the door being forced open, revealing her father.

"That won't be necessary," Tywin declared. "House Slytherin and Lannister will be able to pay off all debts the crown owes as long as Tommen sits upon the throne as per our agreement."

"Yes because at least House Slytherin keeps its promises," I snarked, "Such a shame my house seems to be the only one honorable enough to be capable of holding a deal."

A tense silence filled the room as I met Tywin's gaze in challenge before excusing myself and slipping out of the room to drink myself into a stupor.

* * *

Waking up, I shuffled from beneath light fur covers and jerked away from the floor immediately noticing how cold it was.

Before I could focus on my surroundings, the door slammed open revealing someone who hurried inside.

The girl unpinned her hair as she closed the door shut, locking it behind her. Her brown hair covered her face, blending into the furs she was wearing.

From the updo falling down, her roots were revealed.

Within her deep maroon tresses burst through a strip of autumn auburn - a stark reminder of her true identity.

"Sansa?" I called, my voice hoarse like I'd licked the rumble strip on the motorway.

Tully blue eyes burst open and the girl gasped out a sob of my name, racing toward me and clutching me close.

Warm against me, proof she was safe, I held her tight as well, my arms looping around her back as her clutched at my neck. The heavy necklace she wore cut into my cheek as she rested her head on mine, the warm drops of salt damping my scalp as she ran her hands along my back.

In relative silence we leaned against each other until she broke her head away with a slight sniffle.

Brushing the tears from her eyes, I offered, "Now, how about I help you with your hair?"

* * *

The sandy tan Sansa had gained in King's Landing had faded to a dust of gold upon her fair skin, visible in the billowy shirt she was wearing in place of pyjamas, covered in water droplets as she leaned over the side of the bed before the bowl of water that had been in a pitcher. For a while I just brushed through her long hair, jerking my fingers through knots of mixture, as she sat up, coaxing her out of her own head and away from the heady stench of the dye I had mostly pulled out.

"These days it's hard to remember who I am. Father-" Sansa cut herself off, a flinch revealed in the way she pulled taut before sighing silently. "Petyr means well but I feel..."

"Like you're losing all sense of self?" I offered to which she weakly nodded. Deciding I needed to distract myself now her hair was knot free, I began to braid it. The feel of the weaving allowed me to think over my words carefully, trying not to scar Sansa for life. "Sometimes... I feel like that too. You're far away from home and it doesn't seem real in this new life you've been given. Sure, you've been given some stuff of your own but it never fits quite right, even the one thing that reminds you of home has been taken away from you. You remember things from home, mourn for them, feel their ghosts but... You were lost the minute you left home."

We were submerged into silence once more, barely broken by Sansa's patter of feet as she passed me a ribbon to tie the braid, then moving to take the bowl and leaving the room.

Upon her return, I stood so she could lift the covers before clambering in.

Awkwardly, I just hovered by the bed, not quite willing to just sneak out but also not sure what to do until she patted the space next to her which I complied.

"Y/N, how do you cope?"

"I distract myself," I supplied. "If I sit there and panic over who I was and who I've become, well, there aren't enough joints to calm me down from that particular existential crisis. So just distract yourself when it gets too much." Before she could ask what a joint was, I quickly recommended, "How about praying?"

"But who can I pray to now? The garden must have been meant for a godswood once but the soil is too thin and stony for a weirwood tree to take root even if it could under all the ice."

"Um... Music? Write poetry? Get a pet?"

Sansa turned over, her back to me as if I wouldn't be able to hear the light sniffles my insensitive suggestion caused.

"How about a song?" Faintly she nodded as she tucked herself in and I sat my chin on her head, arm around her waist before I began to sing, " _Chicken Tikka, tell me what's wrong~"_

"Y/N? I don't think-"

_"Chicken Tikka..."_

* * *

Decaying fish being wafted under my nose woke me up, causing me to groan and sit up slowly.

The dead fish was being pulled away from me quickly as I sat up, a heavy bearded bald maester carrying it up and out of the room allowing me to concentrate on the imposing figure dominating my vision.

Sat across the desk from me was Roose Bolton, sat in the very same seat Eddard Stark had been in when I had met him.

"Lady Lannister-"

"Slytherin," I corrected.

"Ah, yes. Your husband. I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's as much a loss as it is to lose a wart." _In that it comes back far worse if you don't get rid of it properly._

If Roose Bolton was the sort of man to awkwardly shrug away a conversation, now would have been the best time. Instead he supplied the topic change of; "Have you met my lady wife?"

"I don't believe I've had the honour as of yet."

"Lady Walda is a Frey, and she has a fertile feel to her. I have become oddly fond of my fat little wife. The two before her never made a sound in bed, but this one squeals and shudders." _Bitch what the fuck. "_ I find that quite endearing. If she pops out sons the way she pops in tarts, Winterfell will soon be overrun with Boltons much like it used to be overrun with wolf pups. Ramsay will kill them all, of course," this was said so nonchalantly that if I wasn't listening to his words, I would have thought his talk about sex was more absurd. "That's for the best. I will not live long enough to see new sons to manhood, and boy lords are the bane of any House. Walda will grieve to see them die, though."

"Ramsay sounds..."  _Like a psycho hobbit._ "...charming. Where is he?"

"My son is currently out hunting. However, his betrothed is doing embroidery in her room."

* * *

 ****"May I present my future good-daughter, Arya of House Stark."

Waiting in the highest room of the tallest tower of Winterfell, the one Bran had fell from,was a girl who looked sort of like Arya. The brown hair like limp grass was pinned up in the Northern style and she was pale, but even covered up to her neck, the few thin scars ran up her neck like a cobweb showed how dark her eyes were.

"Mm... Nah. You ain't Arya."

Roose's eyes narrowed. "Of course she is Arya of House Stark-"

"Aight." Shrugging, I turned away from the suspicious man who had helped with Robb's death and would probably help with mine to ask 'Arya', "Do you use a weapon, my lady?"

"Proper ladies don't carry weapons," the girl parroted, her eyes staring at the embroidery wheel where she was creating the Bolton house sigil on a cloak draped over her lap.

I nodded simply at her, humming in fake agreement as I flicked my gaze to Roose who kept his gaze on the interaction.

"A marriage would have been created between House Stark through her elder sister who would have been more suitable if not for Lady Sansa' untimely death, much like your own husband's."

_Bitch, I just sang her to sleep. Petyr's spidey senses are fucked or he's lying for his weird daddy kink._

_"_ Huh," I managed eventually only to realise I had been lead out of the room a while ago.

Now, I sat back in the chair that had begun to give me an awful crick in the neck, with Bolton at the door.

"Please stay here until I return." Then the door was locked behind him.

_Fuck that. I got to tell someone about this shit._


	55. Wanted - Ring of Invisibility To Placate Psycho Hobbit (Chapter 54)

**_Dear Jon,_ **

**_Your sister isn't in Winterfell. I can't tell you where she actually is because I was fucking about with statues-_ **

_No that won't do. Try more subtle._

**_Dear Jon,_ **

**_Arya's imposter-_ **

_Sounds too accusatory for a girl locked in a tower._

"Oh!" Emma let out the small gasp and I looked up from the letter I was currently writing at my desk, looking over to her sat at the table to see her clutching a letter in her hands.

Brushing my hands, wet with ink, on a piece of cloth that had been left by Alis because I kept ruining my skirts, I stood and moved over to Emma.

Peering over her shoulder at the carefully written words she tilted towards me, I queried, "Your son, Oak, right?"

"Yes, my lady. I've just received word that he has arrived at your Keep and I was wondering... I was wondering if I could go see him, if only just for a visit." The last part was rushed as she turned to look at me, far less confident than the stern woman who had once threatened the Lannister guards who stood around my door with words she promptly begged my forgiveness for.

"Your son's the only family you have left and families should stay together," I mused before proposing, "You're incredibly loyal, a hard worker, so I shall reward you."

"My lady, what about-" Emma began to protest.

"Sera and Alis can stay with me and assist me, I'll hire more maids or whatever, , and you manage things impeccably enough for me here in terms of business, what can't be said over a raven-sent letter?"

"Thank you! Oh thank you! May the Gods bless your household evermore!"

I grimaced but let my features relax. "Any passing advice before you go pack?" I elaborated at her look of confusion, "Before I send you off, at least let me ask you this."

"My lady, as you said, families should stay together." Sternly, she met my eye as she advised, "Don't forgive your husband, if you wish, but for the sake of yourself, pretend. Religious fanatics used to comb the countryside and made the Mountain look charitable. After all, I would rather miss you after all if something happened." Happily flushed as red as her silvering hair she stood, bowed and left the room to pack.

"Sera!" I called.

Scribbling a note on the back off the 'imposter' letter I retrieved from my desk - splashing ink on the words that had lain there before - I blew on it, wrapped it, stamped it and passed it to the silent approach-er. "Please take this down to whoever is in charge of the carts and get one for Emma along with an escort and some food."

With a silent nod, she complied.

Sitting back down, I began to write the letter to Jon once more, contemplating Emma's advice.

* * *

Cart arranged (food loaded and because Emma didn't want to travel alone in her old age but didn't want guards, a boy who would switch at the Riverlands with the Night's Watch would suffice) I walked Emma down myself with a certain gift I wanted her to have clutched in my hands. Before she could say her goodbyes after clambering up into the cart, I asked her to open her hands.

"Here, I want you to have this." Dropping the golden sword, my final wedding gift, into Emma's open palms, I stepped back raising my hands before she could protest.

"My lady... thank you for-"

"HURRY UP!"

With an unimpressed look shot at him by Emma, the guy with the cart simply turned back around but spurred the horse on.

"Safe travels!" I called after the cart once it pulled away, Emma beaming and waving to me from the back as she left. "Give your son my regards!"

* * *

For the first time for a while, I dressed like a Lannister. Red velvet clung to my skin like it had never left, the loose sleeves that draped from my shoulders to my elbows, trapping me in the colours of the lion.

Perhaps I shouldn't have bothered judging how poorly Tywin looked in his office - a pallid face stark against his dark leathers.

"My lady," he greeted.

"A united front," I propose diplomatically, gesturing to my gown. "Public opinion means quite a lot and considering all the people seem to think your family and to extension me are incestuous sinners who need to burn." Recalling the news I had heard whispered recently I added, "From what I've been told, religion is going to be a hindrance for me rather than a help and currently someone's been dragged away for being gay... They'll come for the women next."

"They already have," Tywin replied. "Margaery Tyrell went unaccompanied to her brother's trial and was arrested by the Faith for bearing false witness."

"Then a united front we must present, as man and wife for not even the Queen is safe."

"For the good of the family-"

"Self-preservation," I corrected. "We Slytherins pride ourselves in knowing when to hedge our bets. And forgive me my lord but it's hard to retain loyalty in my vocabulary when I have no one to be loyal to."

Rather than argue, Tywin tensed his jaw to still his tongue.

I offered my hand to him. "Come. Fresh air may do you good and we have much to discuss."

* * *

Escorted by Ser Ilyn Payne along with two other Lannister soldiers, Tywin and I walked arm and arm throughout the market in mostly silence other than the few tidbits of information I fed him until finally we stopped at the base of the steps of Baelor where two nutcases with the seven pointed star carved into them waited. Without looking back behind us I knew more probably were waiting.

"Lord and Lady Lannister," one of the nutjobs greeted civilly. "Have you come to pray for a child or beg for forgiveness in the hopes you may be granted justly?"

"It is none of your concern what lies in my prayers. Only the Gods should be concerned with my desires unless you count yourself amongst them," Tywin challenged. "But is it not my desires or my wife's that I came here for but the king's."

"In the kings house, the kings word must rule," acknowledged the cult member, "but the Sept of Baelor is the house of Gods."

"A pity then that the gods built their house in King's Landing." The old lion stared down the sparrow. "Us  _mere mortals_  must abide by the laws of this kingdom including the decrees of the king such as releasing his wife."

"The gods demand justice for bearing false witness and the king wouldn't want the release of his wife if he knew the allegations against her."

"Tywin," I warned lowly, feeling the circle of cult members getting tighter around us.

Rather than argue further, Tywin placed the hand that wasn't connected to the arm I held onto his sword. "Ser Illyn, lead us."

Silent as a shadow, Ser Ilyn swept forward and forced the men back, breaking through the circle and leading us back to the Red Keep.

* * *

Upon our silent return, not a lot to say between my husband and I, 'family' meeting was called between the Queen Mother, the royal advisor, and Hand of the King and Jaime.

So far, it was mainly arguing between the former whilst the latter (me) sat in her chair and drank enough wine that any prayers to the God for me to carry a child would be retracted. 

"And what diplomatic mission called Jaime away from the capital?" Cersei asked, finally catching my attention once more.

"The diplomatic mission was the kidnapping of my nephew, your cousin, Lancel of Darry. He abandoned his wife and son, his duty, for the faith militant. Had it not been for Jaime seizing him on his way to escort myself and my sister here on our return, backed by Kevan a few days later, we would have lost him as well."

Jaime's gaze remained on the table, ignoring Cersei's petulant glare.

"How did this happen?" Tywin inquired sternly, his gaze betraying the fact that he already knew. "How did the Faith Militant form once more?"

"Tommen-"

"The boy is apparently a bigger fool than his brother was. As are you to have manipulated him to do so." Cersei almost flinched. "Arming the Faith militant before my return was a petty move. If you wish to have yourself dragged away and locked up like the Tyrell boy, on your head be it."

"Father-" Jaime protested weakly.

"Not another word! My  _daughter._  It is a sad day when I wish for Tyrion. At least _he_  would have the common sense to not get himself captured or do anything to provoke it." Tywin flicked his gaze between Cersei and I as he ordered, "No one is to leave without escorts. No one is to pray regardless of what little the gods have ever done for this family that  _we_  have not done for ourselves." Tywin's gaze met mine as he finally ordered, "No one is to enter the sept of Baelor or ask for any documents to be signed."

_Oh, you clever bastard. I've been outplayed._

* * *

Wanting to warm myself up from the cold cruelty of my now not happening divorce, I decided to venture onward to Meereen where I was greeted with apricot wine and a place to stand by Daenerys' left as I zone out as she deals with the court that I hardly focused on.

The roar of orders to clear the court is what brought me back to the room.

Standing before the throne were three men... two and a half perhaps given one was a boy on the cusp of adulthood?

"Now, your names," Daenerys ordered.

"Ser Gerris Drinkwater, your Grace. My sword is yours." The Lannister-looking guy swept into a dramatic bow, his charming smirk almost playful compared to his companion.

"And my warhammer," added the giant who remained standing, his bald head glinting like the dagger at his waist. "I'm Ser Archibald Yronwood."

"And you, ser Frog?" the queen asked the boy who looked like he kept a frog in his mouth.

"If it please Your Grace, may I first present my gift?"

 "If you wish," Daenerys said, curiosity in the motion of her raised brow, but Frog was stopped by Daario.

Stone-faced, the stocky lad bent, unlaced his boot, and drew a yellowed parchment from a hidden flap within.

"If it please your Grace," I began to offer, watching the indignation cross Daario's face, "perhaps I can read it and summarise its contents to save time."

"Very well."

The scroll was passed to me and stamped with the seal of House Martell, a sun pierced by a spear. Slowly unrolling it, I flicked my gaze across the old ink before fully unraveling it and reading.

"A marriage contract for Viserys and Princess Arianne." I let out a low whistle as I stared down the boy. "Doran has some nerve on him. If Bobby B had known about this, Dorne would have been smashed harder than he used to get." I pass the parchment to Daenerys to at least hold as I inquire, "For some reason you want to exchange Viserys for Daenerys and let me guess, you're here in replacement of Arianne Martell, your sister, Prince Quentyn?"

Daenerys and I share a look that speaks privately the words I can't say right now - why do people think Viserys is dead?

"I have the honour to be he, a prince of Dorne and your most leal subject." He swept into a low dramatic bow as he began to explain, "Due to the death of your brother-"

Daenerys barked out a laugh, speaking in a tongue I don't know, before turning and asking Quentyn, "Tell me, Prince Quentyn, are you enchanted?"

"No, Your Grace," Quentyn answered honestly.

"I feared as much. You have come for a kiss, however. You mean to marry me, is that the way of it? The gift you bring is your own sweet self in return for Dorne."

"My father hoped that you might find me acceptable."

"Had you come a year ago, I would have taken your offer. However, I am pledged to wed the  _noble_  Hizdahr zo Loraq."  _Had to cough to bite down a laugh._

Ser Gerris said, "It is not too late - "

"I will be the judge of that," Daenerys said. "Reznak, see that the prince and his companions are given quarters suitable to their high birth, and that their wants are attended to."

"As you wish, Your Radiance."

The queen rose. "Then we are done for now."

* * *

Instead of leaving with Daenerys to her apartments, I returned to my rooms in King's Landing to write a letter, sighing at the absence of Emma's presence.

**_To his royal highness, Viserys III of House Targaryen, King of Yunkai and Qarth,_ **

**_How is your new advisor? I hope he suits your tastes. I shall visit soon but I advise you to hurry over to_ **

**_The Dornish think you dead. A marriage proposal between yourself and Arianne of House Martell has been changed to Daenerys and Prince Quentyn who isn't pleased about Hizdahr. Do with this information what you will._ **

**_Also I hope for your health along with Ser Barristan's._ **

_**Signed,** _

**_Y/N L/N_ **

Finished, I ran it through the usual procedure and called over Alis who now had begun to look over the books Emma had left, her lessons with Lorenah finally able to pay off.

Passing her the letter with orders to send by raven to Qarth, 

"Before you go, Alis, you know what Sera did for me... Nym's-"

"Yes, my lady. My sister and I keep no secrets from each other and hopefully you, my lady."

I hummed in thought before asking, "Hypothetically if I asked you to do something... risky, would you do it?"

"If it wasn't for you, we would still be in the cage of a bird. So hypothetically, yes." Her sister nodded along as well as she asked, "Why? Is there something or someone you had in mind?"

* * *

That night I dreamt of the clearing where Bran had been attacked by the medieval hobos, one of the times I had been with Robb last.

It had been a long time since I had dreamt of Robb, even outside of the tent where I had rejected him, but for this to be a memory struck me as odd.

What struck me as even odder was the fact that I was sat in the fork of a tree, donned in the cloak Robb had leant me twice, his scent of leather, parchment and the snow clung to it still almost bringing a tear to my eye.

It would have been easy to see it as a tree if not for the sight in the clearing that was not Stark related.

The girl is very clearly dead, neck snapped to one side and the pool of blood that stains the snow make that very evident along with the blue staining her naked skin, but the man above her does not stop rutting into her, watched by a group of other men just as vile.

Before I can focus on anywhere else or beg for mercy to be taken away from this awful sight, one of the many hounds turns and growls in my direction.

"Someone else is here," called the corpse-fucker, stopping his rutting.

"The hunt continues!" crowed the rider of the red stallion, his cruel smirk a bigger sign of his lust for war than any erection could be. "I'll allow you a head start. Give us a good hunt, not like this one, and I'll give you a quick death. Go!"

Taking this as my signal, I leap up and away from the tree and hurriedly scamper away from the group, even as the hounds howls echo after me.

* * *

I must have been running in circles because soon enough I find myself back in the clearing, clambering back into the tree, knowing someone is behind me.

As it turns out, it's not just the paranoia caused by death being imminent.

Someone enters the clearing, his pale hair and paler skin helping him blend into his surroundings. If not for the dark leathers strangling his body or the greased whip like a noose around his neck, I may not have spotted him.

A slash of a mouth calls out to me, "When I catch you... Rape you bloody, I will." The smirk echoes his vile words, ruining his boyish looks. "Before I do, my whip will make you dance."

To demonstrate, he uses it to slash at the base of the tree next to me, the tree next, the tree next, each wounded with a deep scar in their flesh.

Soon his back is turned and I see my chance.

Launching myself at his back, I knock both of us to the ground.

Scrabbling for purchase on the ground to either force myself to stand, my hand strikes against a rock that causes me to hiss at the small gash it rips through my skin.

Taking my chance, I heave it up and bring it full force into the man's temple, knocking him off of me.

Straddling him, I raise the rock and smash it through his skull over and over again until finally his body refuses to even twitch like a squashed bug.

Almost hurling, snot bubbling, and my fear roaring in my ears, I unstraddle the body, the whip biting into my palm as I step up and away from the corpse.

I can barely focus on anything until the horse appears.

I hear the horse before I see it as it rips through the treeline, it's rider leaning forward, a maniacal laugh joining the chorus of howls at the horse's beating feet, turning up the snow and earth like a blaze of fire.

Just before he reaches me, near enough the heat of the horse almost warms the chills its owner gives me, I salute the psycho hobbit with a forced smirk and feel myself pulled away.


	56. Zombies, Music and, Crossbows, Oh My! (Chapter 55)

_His eyes... Like the blood I spilled on the ground was coming back to haunt me..._

"M'lady? M'lady?" Alis called and I think she must have been doing so for quite a while.

The water I was sat in had cooled considerably from the steaming water that I had been dropped in, the water holding a maroon tint from the blood that hadn't had time to dry on my skin and now the blood stemming from between my legs.

A gasp escaped her lips as she grabbed onto my right hand to draw it out of the water for cleaning. "Oh look at your poor hands!"

Apparently where I had gripped onto the rock, scrabbled at the ground, and let the viperous whip squeeze the flesh of my palm, it had ripped it open to reveal the snow coloured bone beneath.

It hurt to clench my fingers but I had to as Sera was tying off the wrapped soft fabric around my hands to cover the wounds.

Alis let go of my hand so Sera could take it up and begin wrapping once more.

"Lady Frey left you a note, my lady, before her and your lord husband left. Would you like me to read it to you?"

 _Huh, they left the day before Cersei is due to sail off to Highgarden without Loras to await his freedom. How odd._ "Please."

_Dear Goodsister-_

_I wish to speak about my brother but each time I have sought you out, you appear not to be available and as we will doubtlessly be far on our way to Casterly Rock once more, I can only pass on my thoughts in a letter._

_You have every right to be angry with what you saw. After all, if my husband Emmon dared to even think I would ~~grasp his thin neck and strangle the bastard~~  But men are such thundering great fools, even the sort who come along once in a thousand years. What you saw is best discussed with my brother but I have only one thing to pass along;_

_Men say Tywin never smiled, but he smiled when he wed Joanna, he may have smiled when he wed you, he smiled when the mad bugger Aerys made him Hand. When Tarbeck Hall came crashing down on Lady Ellyn, that scheming bitch, Tyg claimed he smiled then, he smiled at the birth of the twins. Perhaps his fondest smile was when I asked of you._

_Despite our lack of communication, I wish you well if only for Tywin's sake..._

"...signed, her ladyship Genna Lannister, wife of Emmon Frey the Lord of Riverrun and Mistress of Casterly Rock."

"Thank you for that. Before we move on, will you bring me a weapon?" It sounds suspicious so I try to clarify, "After the day I had...  I wouldn't feel comfortable without it."

"Yes my lady." The sisters shared a look before Sera left the room.

When Sera returned a few minutes later, I had been dressed in the simple nightgown and tucked into bed like a dying old woman after being fussed over, my hands bandaged, and the reports being read to me slowly.

The weapon handed to me that I held onto gently was the crossbow of House Lannister, the possible kinslayer and evidence used in attempted patricide. Instead of fretting, I simply felt comforted by it's weight, worried those eyes that glowed like amber and trapped it's victims inside it's depths would trap me as well.

Whispers of murderous brotherhoods lead by the walking dead amongst general rumours, solicitous affairs, and whatever else filled the long scroll of parchment, helped me slip away with my only grounding point being the crossbow I clutched tight to my body.

* * *

The soft light of dawn greeted me in the middle of a muddy puddle that was currently soaking the trousers I wore up to my knees, squelching with each step I took towards the one thing that wasn't mud or trees - a lone cave.

The harsh light of torches blaze the entrance to the cave, louder than the calls of the people inside, and I find myself drawn like a moth to venture inwards, crossbow at the ready.

I kept myself in the shadows, begging them to hide me in their silence, as I crept forward to see who the 'whore' being brought forth was, stilling at the sight before me.

In a simple woolen shift was Brienne, looking much smaller and more afraid than I had ever seen her - less a Goddess of war and more a sacrifice - as she was shoved forwards, bound as she was (really it was just the wrists but it looked like it would hurt).

"I think we might. There's a stink of lion about you, lady." The sniff echoed through the cave coming from the void-like nostrils of a man who loomed over Brienne, taller than the biggest fuck off direwolf and maybe the Mountain (who had now lost his head so should probably be the Pebble).

"That's not so," Brienne protests.

One of the outlaws stepped out of the shadows, a younger man in a greasy sheepskin jerkin. In his hand was Oathkeeper. "This says it is." His voice was frosted with the accents of the North. He slid the sword from its scabbard and placed it in front of an older woman sat at a table.

 In the light from the fire-pit and the small candle at her table, the red and black ripples in the blade almost seem to move, flickering like flames but slithering like the blood spilt down blades, but the woman in grey had eyes only for the pommel: a golden lion's head, with ruby eyes that shone like two red stars.

"There is this as well." Greasy Northern drew a parchment from his sleeve, and put it down next to the sword. "It bears the boy king's seal and says the bearer is about his business."

The Grey Lady set the sword aside to read the letter.

"The sword was given me for a good purpose," said Brienne. "Ser Jaime swore an oath to Catelyn Stark-"

"-before his friends cut her throat for her, that must have been," said the big man in the yellow cloak. With a scoff he stated, "We all know about the Kingslayer and his oaths."

Persistently, Brienne added, "He promised Lady Catelyn her daughters, but by the time we reached King's Landing they were gone. Jaime sent me out to seek the Lady Sansa-"

"-and if you had found the girl," asked the young north-man, "what were you to do with her?"

"Protect her. Take her somewhere safe."

The big man's laugh could have collapsed the cave. "Where's that? Cersei's dungeon?"

"No."

"Deny it all you want. That sword says you're a liar. Are we supposed to believe the Lannisters are handing out gold and ruby swords to foes? That the Kingslayer meant for you to hide the girl from his own twin? I suppose the paper with the boy king's seal was just in case you needed to wipe your arse? And then there's the company you keep ..." The big man turned and beckoned, the ranks of outlaws parted, and two more captives were brought forth. "The boy was the Imp's own squire, m'lady," he said to the cult's queen. "T'other is one of Randyll Bloody Tarly's bloody household knights."

The man standing near Podrick seemed to have been beaten to the point that even if I cared to recognise him, I probably wouldn't have been able to.

"Whatever treachery you think I may have done, my lady, Podrick and Ser Hyle were no part of it," Brienne declared.

"They're lions," said the one-eyed man. "That's enough. I say they hang. Tarly's hanged a score o' ours, past time we strung up some o' his."

Ser Hyle gave Brienne a faint smile. "My lady," he said, "you should have wed me when I made my offer. Now I fear you're doomed to die a maid, and me a poor man."  _What a cunt._

"Let them go," Brienne pleaded.

Everyone looked to their apparent leader, the woman draped in grey, who still studied the two items that belonged to Brienne, the sword and the scroll, and an iron and bronze crown that she rolled to reflect the firelight.

Finally, she tipped the crown until it rolled to a stop, landing next to a candle, before she took her neck in a death grasp, almost intent on her crushing her own breath from her body. The opening of her mouth let loose the harsh wind of the North escaped her mouth, an unrecognizable noise that was void of the howling of wolves but filled with the death that filled the land. However it still wasn't words.

"I don't understand. What did she say?"

"She asked the name of this blade of yours," said the young northman in the sheepskin jerkin.

"Oathkeeper," Brienne answered.

The woman stilled, her left hand clutching onto the crown's spikes until her fingers should have bled or turned whiter than the mottled grey they appeared to be as she hissed and rasped, her voice a death rattle accompanied by the chorus of an avalanche.

The man translated once more, "No, she says. Call it Oathbreaker, she says. It was made for treachery and murder. She names it False Friend. Like you."

"To whom have I been false?"

"To her," the north-man said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world before inquiring mockingly, "Can it be that my lady has forgotten that you once swore her your service?"

"That cannot be," Brienne protested, "She's dead."

"Death and guest right," muttered who I remembered to be one of the women loitering at the inn when I had been kidnapped by the Brotherhood. "They don't mean so much as they used to, neither one."

The Grey Lady lowered her hood and unwound the grey wool scarf from her face.

For not seeing her for years, I recognised her immediately.

Instead of the hair as crimson as her daughter's, it was a white as a bone and more akin to straw. The grey of her hands had spread to her face, marring with the nauseous green and the brown blooms of decay. An animal may have been at her face but her claws that seemed more like daggers seemed to have been at her face, ripping her skin from her eyes down to her jaw into ragged strips, curling like ripped wallpaper to reveal the carcass inside and decorated with droplets of dried blood.

If not for the clutch on the crossbow and the teeth clamping my lips shut, I would have let out the bile or gasp or sob that threatened to rip through anyway.

"Lady Catelyn? They said . . . they said that you were dead."

"She is," one of the numerous outlaws confirmed before explaining, "The Freys slashed her throat from ear to ear. When we found her by the river she was three days dead. Harwin begged the betrayer to give her the kiss of life, but it had been too long. Thoros the betrayer would not do it, so Lord Beric put his lips to hers instead, and the flame of life passed from him to her. And . . . she rose. May the Lord of Light protect us. She rose."

"I _never_ betrayed her," Brienne said once more. "Tell her that. I swear it by the Seven. I swear it by my sword."

The _thing_ that had been Catelyn Stark took hold of her throat again, fingers pinching at the ghastly long slash in her neck, and choked out more sounds.

"Words are wind, she says," the north-man told Brienne. "She says that you must prove your faith."

"How?" asked Brienne.

"With your sword. Oathkeeper, you call it? Then keep your oath to her, milady says."

"What does she want of me?"  _Oh fuck this is going to be some Huntsman shit..._

"She wants her son alive, or the men who killed him dead," said the big man. "She wants to feed the crows, like they did at the Red Wedding. Freys and Boltons, aye. We'll give her those, as many as she likes. All she asks from you is Jaime Lannister."

Brienne was silent as the grave before she wetted her lips and began, "Lady Catelyn, I . . . you do not understand, Jaime . . . he saved me from being raped when the Bloody Mummers took us, and later he came back for me, he leapt into the bear pit empty-handed . . . I swear to you, he is not the man he was. He sent me after Sansa to keep her safe, he could not have had a part in the Red Wedding."

Lady Catelyn's fingers dug deep into her throat, and the words came rattling out, choked and broken, a stream as cold as ice.

"She says that you must choose. Take the sword and slay the Kingslayer, or be hanged for a betrayer. The sword or the noose, she says. Choose, she says. Choose."

Brienne took a ragged breath before she declared her fate. "I will not make that choice."

There was a long silence. Then the corpse spoke again. This time myself and Brienne understood her words. There were only two. "Hang them," she croaked.

"As you command, m'lady," said the big man.

Slowly, as if not aware of time, the occupants of the cave began to clamber up and head to slip out of the cave and I had to hurry out before they could catch me and hang me too.

_Now how the fuck do I get people out of this?_

* * *

My hands had begun to bleed through the fabric binding them but I had still managed to clamber high enough in an oak, crossbow posied like a sniper rifle, to watch the procession of the dead men and woman now not walking.

Whilst the two men were tied beneath great elms that stretched high and reached to the heavens they would be sent to hopefully, Brienne stood alone.

Beneath a crooked willow, the outlaws slipped a noose about her neck, jerked it tight, and tossed the other end of the rope over a limb of the tree.

Hyle Cunt was shouting threats of death for Jaime Lannister, calling for his head, screaming that he would strangle the bastard-

The big man soon bitch slapped him, shutting him up effectively.

From the ground, he picked up a helm I recognized immediately from the snarling teeth and the snarling of the hound which he promptly dropped over his ugly mug. Through the clenched teeth he growled out. "If you got crimes to confess to your gods, this would be the time to say them."

"Podrick has never harmed you. My father will ransom him. Tarth is called the sapphire isle. Send Podrick with my bones to Evenfall, and you'll have sapphires, silver, whatever you want," Brienne pleaded, resorting to lies.

"I want my wife and daughter back," growled the bastard imposter. "Can your father give me that? If not, he can get buggered. The boy will rot beside you. Wolves will gnaw your bones."

"Do you mean to hang her, Lem?" asked the one-eyed man. "Or do you figure to talk the bitch to death?"

Lem snatched the end of the rope from the man holding it. "Let's see if she can dance," he said, and gave a yank.

Brienne began to struggle soundlessly against the rope, her chin jerking upwards as if she were drowning.

Hyle struggled like he swore; violently and desperately. Podrick never lifted his eyes from the ground, barely struggled or writhed. Instead he swung back and forth like a puppet tangled in it's strings.

_I can only save one..._

Taking aim, I feel my chest constrict as I place my finger on the trigger and then let loose.

The rope above Brienne frayed but didn't snap until she twisted once more, falling to the floor with a thud.

Taking aim once more I shot the Sandor imposter who stood just behind Brienne who never had time to clutch at anything other than the arrow now protruding from his neck.

Brienne seemed to have been able to release herself from the grips of the mud below her, catching her wrists on a loose dagger and cutting her wrists free.

Another shot at the only archer and I was out of bolts.

Racing forwards I dropped the crossbow on the ground in my hurry to grab the helm, tugging it off of the dead body and clutching it like a lifeline before spotting Brienne cutting through men slowly on her way to Podrick who now hung still, Hyle hung silent.

"WE NEED TO MOVE!"

The neighing of a neighboring horse catches my attention and I grab Brienne's wrist to catch her attention before we both begin to race over to them, the heavy boots breaking the ground behind us.

The mud didn't help, dragging us down and through it, especially as Brienne was barefoot with only Oathkeeper's weight to keep her grounded.

Soon enough we saw the horses tied to a set of cedars and elms.

I swung myself up onto the nearest horse, sliding myself forwards to lean on the horse's main with the helm sandwiched between my thighs, whilst Brienne cut the ropes, swinging herself up and on after me.

They were so close-

The horse ran.

* * *

Brienne's shivering form pressed against my back as the heavens opened and hailed down upon us.

Any other situation I would be thankful but I realised how sick Brienne could get.

"You want to know where Sansa is, Brienne?" I asked, willing to give her a boon. "Because I know you, you don't want to betray Jaime for a zombie. So if you swear to me you'll escort her far from here, take her to Castle Black, I'll reveal her location."

"Or I could kill you for it." The horse stilled and the distinct sound of metal being pulled and a new cold weight against my neck caused me to roll my eyes.

"Look." I knocked the sword away from my neck with my index finger. "As much fun as being on the end of your shaft is, if I'm really your only chance to help Sansa and fulfill your vow to Catelyn Stark, you'll do it. Especially considering your loyalty has cost two lives."

"I am loyal-"

"Oh fuck loyalty!" I struggled to get off of the horse but when I did I almost sunk back into the ground, helmet weighing me down further. "You're on a never ending quest to save the Stark girls which I appreciate, I really do, but that right there is a reanimated corpse.  _That_  is not the Catelyn Stark that I knew because she just hung two men and tried to kill  _you!_ You're going to do as she says? Trap Jaime after all he's done for you?"

Brienne's fingers clutched onto the horse's mane (who seemed quite happy to graze at the grass now that we weren't in the hot pursuit we had been in for the last few hours) and her jaw tightened, eyes downcast.

I took this as answer enough and sighed before stating, "Head to the Vale. Ask for Alayne Stone, ward of Petyr Baelish. Worst comes to worst you bust her out yourself."

"Thank you, my-"

"No time!" With that I spanked the horse and unfortunately not Brienne, and sent her on her way.


	57. More Reasons To Not Going To The Church of The Flaming Assholes (Chapter 56)

I have no idea why I had to take the helm, covered in blood and as ugly as it was, but it made me feel better to have a reminder of Sandor even when he was possibly dead. Still it looked cool on my dining table.

Which was currently where I was meeting with the only Lannister remaining in King's Landing - Kevan the Kooch.

"Cersei has been arrested by the Faith militant," Kevan stated dead-pan.

"Are we going to intervene with the military?"

"No."

"Okay, better question, does Tywin know and is he going to interfere with the army?"

"No."

_Do I need to know why? Not really... On the one hand, Cersei is my good daughter but on the other Cersei is a bit of a cunt..._

"I will be giving your seat on the small council to whichever bastard of Martell is coming from Dorne to in return for Myrcella."

"You can't-" I began to protest weakly.

"Unfortunately good-sister, as regent for Tommen in Cersei's absence, I may do as I choose. You will vacate your seat on the small council."

"Oh, you're just  _adoring_  this, aren't you? No _wonder_  Tywin didn't wait around for Cersei's send off, because you  _knew_  this was going to happen." "I have to commend you, you're not as stupid as you appear but I've had enough for today. If you're so powerful you can annul my marriage to your brother."

"And why would I do that?"

"If I agree to pay off the 3 million gold dragons the Crown owes House Lannister that should more than liberate me."

"Your marriage was consummated. At best you may live separated as you do now."

I sighed, sinking back into my seat and closing my eyes as I begin to rub my temples. "Please leave."

No footsteps fade out of the room and I don't even bother opening my eyes to glare at Kevan. Too tired for that I just flick my wrist in the vague direction of the doors. "These are still my rooms Kevan or do you plan to take these from me as well?"

Soon he left and I came to a decision.

I take off the heavy choker of jade and obsidian, letting it drop onto the sofa next to me. The bracelet weighing me down like a shackle, the brooch pressing on my chest like a hot poker, and the hair net that refuses to leave like a tangled cobweb but eventually snaps like my patience, all follow after, and I stand up free of the weight before heading through the halls.

* * *

It took me a while to navigate the corridor to find the not-yet-dead grandson. He wasn't sat on the throne lording about, or hidden in the kitchens with the now absent Ser Pounce who even Cook couldn't find, or even in the gardens.

By a while I mean it took me about an hour and if it wasn't for being pointed in the right direction by whoever was meant to be replacing Ser Ilyn Payne, absent once more in the place of Jaime's adventures of finding self-respect, and finally I arrived at the office that had once housed Tywin and other people, probably.

I knocked on the open doorway, passing the guards who remained in their positions by the door. 

Inside, hunched over his desk madly scribbling away at one of the papers on the tornado covering his desk, crown tossed to the side so his hair stood out like he'd been thunder fucked by Thor himself, was Tommen.

"Your highness?"

As seems to be a common Westerosi staple, I was ignored.

_Okay... I'm just gonna slither in... Slytherin. Ha._

Surprisingly, the loud sounds of my heeled shoes or the giant cough I gave that almost made me dry heave a lung out didn't catch his attention until I tugged at a strand of hair sticking out of the back of his hair like a tail.

With a jerk, he sat back up, blinking rapidly at me before giving me an uneasy smile as he attempted to stand. "Oh, Y/N, I'm sorry you caught me. I should go back to my-"

"You don't have to fret. Sit back down."

Gratefully, he flopped back down. Instead of asking what I wanted, he simply stared at me blearily.

Taking my own seat opposite him, I waited for him to say something or at least the right words to come to mind so I'm -

Fuck it. "Tommen, I'm not your advisor anymore."

"Why?"

 _Because your great uncle is a colossal cunt and I'm gonna write that on his grave the wanktard._ "I feel it's an honour too hard for me to uphold. And certain management decisions..."  _Your mother being genetically programmed to be an even bigger cunt than her father and uncle combined as if they'd had her._ "...I feel better suited to... not doing that anymore."

Again, Tommen said nothing, simply nodded along.

Warily I watched him, checking for drug signs like ye olde wooden needles or a long pinky nail. However, I did notice other things about the room as I 

_Huh, I fucked his granddad on that desk... and that chair... and I'm pretty sure I did something with a similar looking quill-_

Luckily, a heavy weight settling on my lap brought me out of my thoughts.

"Ser Pounce really likes you," Tommen commented before asking, "Do you remember when you used to read to me after Myrcella left and he used to curl up on your lap?"

"And then I'd pass him back to you because if I had cat hair everywhere I'd never hear the end of it from Emma."

"I wish we could go back. You seemed... happier then."

_Maybe I was..._

"So did you."It wouldn't be nice to tell the King he looked like shit with duffel bags under his eyes, coloured like he'd been punched.  _Oh poor sweet Tommen, how harshly the world has treated you._ "When was the last time you slept?"

"...Not since Margaery's arrest," he answered truthfully. "I've been looking through all of the books and scrolls I can find to help her but..."

"I can attempt to seek out the High Sparrow himself. Perhaps that would help?"

Of course he agreed.

* * *

One walk later (interrupted by my deviations to give money to the poor, listen to the people, and even having to lose a guy in the crowd who I think may have been an assassin or just a really shit thief), dressed in the colours of Slytherin with no guards like a moron, I arrived at the Grand Sept.

Being let in was easy as I was alone.

"Are you the High Sparrow?" I asked the old dude kneeling on the floor, shoe-less in a potato sack.

"Yes... and you must be-"

"Y/N."

His mouth quirked, his wrinkles deepening as he did. "How humble you are to not use your titles."

 _Yet you use yours._ "Do they have any bearing here?" 

"No. Not in the light of the Gods. Now, have you come to pray?"

"Not right now. I've come to request information on the release of the Queen and the Queen Mother."

"Their fates have yet to be decided."  _Why do old people have to be cryptic? Maybe if you lot were less confusing you'd be much happier-_ "If that is all, please leave me to my service."

"In truth, I've come for a more selfish reason; I've come to learn about the title I share."

The old man ignored my offered hand as he stood, knees cracking.  **"** Then this way, I will show you."

* * *

_Can you get foot cancer from walking? My foot's about to walk off and I think I lost my shoe... oh wait, no I haven't, it's still there. But still, I've gone numb from the ankle down from where it rolled on that crack earlier-_

We stopped.

"Where are we?"

"Under the Red Keep... almost."

"If you have such easy access, why haven't you just taken control with your military?"  _Don't give them ideas._

"You came to learn, not to question."

Taking one of the nearby torches from it's holder on the wall, he started walking again, his body surprisingly still holding him up despite the twists and turns of the route and now the descent down the stairs as he began to narrate.

"Unfortunately one of her... relics has been kept elsewhere in the Red Keep, out of our reach, away from the Faith where it belongs. A banner. Each year, more thread was sewn on during the day following the Harvest moon by those who are blessed with hands that have weaved in the name of the Seven, doused in the water of the purest earth, and born with the truth in their patterns. Or it should be..." Something was grumbled under his breath before he resumed, "The practice was stopped in it's full extent by last Targaryen King."

I remembered a day long ago, the day I had told Tywin of the loss of Jaime's hand and the long banner spanning the much cleaner stone wall and what he had said; ' You are here with me now to reflect on when you were there with  _me.'_

Before my thoughts could spiral down a path that would take me away to a time when life was easier, like a year or so ago, the High Sparrow stopped at the bottom of the stairs and pulled out a single key from the depths of his robes. Rusted bronze fit easily into the lock on the small round door illuminated by the torch light and with a simple twist, the door creaked open to reveal the dark shadows that even the torch light seemed to retreat from.

_Yeah... no. This is going to be some Bloody Chamber type shit, or like the underneath of any Catholic church and I'm going to have to decide whether I want to free the ten year old boys or be bludgeoned to death by an old priest._

"To learn about her, you must start from the beginning of the world. The Gods began to feel disconnect with their people, the poor turning to crime and the wealthy taking advantage of those less fortunate. So, a decision was made. The Father took a single palm full of light from the sun, and bundled it in a mound of Earth brought up by the Maiden, a single drop of blood from the Warrior's blade and a single tear from the Mother, the Smith, with a single blow, crafted a woman to serve them. The people, once gifted her, accepted her as their own. Some called her the Stormbringer, some the Woman of the Sky or in depending upon the translation, and other names exist in other places. Yet the woman herself kept the same name regardless and the same face unlike those that only worship a part of her."

Tilting the torch to the left of the inside of the door where a light switch would have been, a ring of fire began to light the room as if by magic, or a mechanism, to reveal a weird art gallery inside. Or... a creepy shrine dedicated to me.

The most prominent creepy things, besides the random boxes, wreaths, candles and what looks like a mummified cat, were the seven versions of myself lining the walls, seven star points were named along the walls in the same Valyrian I had seen written in print in biblical books many times before, and seven reflections of myself stared back at me.

Each version, all of them full-scale statues, were of a different material with a different pose and a different item.

The High Sparrow stepped forward, avoiding the offerings on the floor and narrowly avoiding cutting his feet open, and pointed to the statue on the far left, his silence beckoning me to come closer.

With an arm raised high above her head, the copy of me cast in black stone held a large hammer as if to strike more than fear into the hearts of men but lightning from the sky. The simple detailing of her clothes kept her in simple menswear with the symbol of the Smith embossed upon the breast of the apron. No smile adorned her face and if not for the deep etched lines casting shadows upon the wall, it would appear as if no face loomed,

"The Long Night was dark and full of terror. She appeared, a light in those dark times, and taught the men the mysteries of the world. The people of the Stormlands rejoiced, their hearts fanning the flame of their eternal forges once more as they crafted their tools to survive. It is even said she may have shared the secret of Lightbringer's creation with the last hero." 

A step to the right and the High Sparrow pointed to the next statue.

Despite the stern lock that made the still version of myself, the wide set arms of the t-posing dominatrix showcased the wild raven plumage of the cloak wrapped around the figure as if she could fly off yet it was just a statue cast in the same stone the Moon Door was surrounded in, and dressed in leather.

"After the Fifth Ghiscari war, when the Andals fled here, to Westeros, it was she who lead them. Who guided them to seek refuge in the Vale and taught them how to deal justice in the name of the Seven."  _Hopefully those fuckers just decided to deviate from my teachings._ "The scales she holds decided the fate and chose House Arryn to hold the Vale and not the other who has been lost to time..."

We stood in silence for a while as I stared at the deeply condescending look on the statue that looked like it could punch my cunt in whilst complaining about my astrological sign.

It was clear, after a while of him staring at him expectantly at me, that he wanted me to prove I knew what the fuck was going on but I didn't so I turned to the next figure.

An outstretched palm offered me nothing but a glimpse at the detailed work, smooth grooves carved into smooth surface of the kind looking version of myself. A light seemed to burn within the figure made of crystal, the most life-like of all of them especially with the attention to detail that left her bare to the eye... literally. A copy of my bare tits hung prominently from the body, nipples and all, with no hair to hide them. The only thing protecting me from seeing my own vag and learning if I had been able to get a weed whacker to do the work was a large shield held in front, a bronze shield with the Martell emblem etched into it's surface.

"When the Dornish were attacked by Aegon I, it was she who shielded them from the flames of the dragon fire. It was she who lent them her strength as only a woman can; by giving them her love and life in defense of the death being rained down upon the Dornish people. With a single tear, it was said life could be blossomed from her bosom once more."

"Sorry did you just mention resurrect-"

 _"_ And when all was done, she left them with her love and in turn they mourned as only children truly are able."

_Just skip right over it. Fine._

"Not much is known about when she reached the Reach yet they looked upon her as the most mortal. She held no power over them and in turn, lived amongst them bringing peace and prosperity to the land." A little quirk of a smile began to slink across his face, creasing it further. "Each Harvest Moon the women compete to win the mask she herself once wore in hopes their beauty finds a suitable match."

The version of me this time was an oil painting with a dress and mask stood next to it, the full version of myself peering over the shoulder of it's robed counterpart. Whilst the dress itself was beautiful in it's adornments, the mask a crude imitation of what may have been, it was the oil painting that caught my eye.

With flowers in her hair, a smile that made her seem radiant, I could tell this version of myself had been wild and free. Happy, without a doubt. She looked like I would want... people to see me as.

Maybe if I were left here alone, I would stay just to stare at that smile and lose myself in the warmth of it because it didn't feel like myself. It wasn't nurturing like the version from the Martells, with knowing eyes and quirked brow, but gentle in the slopes of my face found under the cascade of flowers, too many for me to pick them out.

But I wasn't alone and begrudgingly, I turned to look at the next version.

An embroidered copy of my face (still in its seriousness) peered out at me from the circle it was sat in, hidden beneath the hooded cloak that was supported by a frame I couldn't see, haggard-looking in it's hunched form that extended a metal clawed talon to hold onto a deep lantern in the same shade of Tully blue as the cloak was.

"Those who belonged to the Riverlands spoke briefly of her wisdom, as if she were the Crone made flesh. But she was not and she could only guide them for a time before she too left, leaving them with naught but a book she had written them. Perhaps that book is still held in Riverrun or perhaps it has been lost much like this sword-"

Aloft a horse statue was a fully dressed warrior in golden armour. One gauntlet curled around the rein on the horse, the other held... a sword? Well, there it should have been, the sword I had been given and gifted away anyway. In its absence, the gauntlet held nothing aloft and just looked like it was giving a wank mid-air.

"The most recent appearance recorded before yourself was prior to the Rebellion of Robert Baratheon. Not much is known about her before she arrived at court. At first she served as advisor as you do-"

"Did," I corrected.

"...to King Aerys. I was a young man then, untouched by time. I remember the first time I saw her, after the half-year capture of the King. She rode in seated on a stallion with a golden glaze upon it's skin. Yet it's eyes... even between the legs of elders who are naught but shadows now, I will never forget the eyes of that  _beast._  It shared the eyes of it's mistress."

Eyes of molten gold stared back at me this time from both the horse and it's cold mistress.

"Perhaps we were to quick to judge her. We believed she would guide the Targaryens back to the Faith, doing her duty as the neck under the crown's proverbial head, the Crone guiding us as she had guided those in the Riverlands many years before us. Instead she allowed herself to be lead astray. She  _tampered_  with a sacred bond, a marriage sanctioned by the Gods themselves, bewitching a man of great power and wealth. A man whose life you have saved once more to damn him to the deepest hell."  _Tywin..._ "Once more, I fear we've made the same mistake. I am plagued by the fear that once more, the depths of the North have brought forward a curse. A curse in the most tempting form; female flesh."

Finally, he turned to look at me with glazed eyes as if he were seeing someone else in my place or possessed by something wicked. Something evil. Something that put the fear into me to begin stepping back away, the hairs of my arms rising and my skin breaking out into goose flesh.

"Love is out of reach for her because all that it brings is pain."  _My own husband cheated on me with his son's whore... sounds about right. But why does it hurt?_  "She ruins men, makes them forsake their vows. She is pestilence in flesh, war in the blood, and sin in truth. She is ruin."

"I-I can't breathe." I hiked my skirts and began to ran out, the roar of his words a deafening sound that even beat out my own racing thoughts.

"You are a plague upon this earth. Some may have the right idea," he called after me, almost drowning me in his thoughts as his gaze blazed after me. "R'hllor's followers believe in order for the world to be put to right, you must be burnt. Alive."

* * *

I had fainted. That much was obvious from the throbbing headache and the fact that I was laid out on the wet floor that had soaked my gown.

Noise from a nearby tent caught my attention, hopeful considering I was laying on snow with almost no layers. It wasn't the shifting of armour from the guard I could see attempting to scratch his arse, or the wet squelch of vomit shifting on the snow by my hands as I attempted to push myself off the ground despite the numbness locking all of my limbs into place, as if to lull me into a deep sleep. No, two voices conversing in the shadows of a tent.

My legs refused to work so I pulled myself forwards, bare palms screaming with each spike of cold as I did.

When I reached the small slit in the tent, I could only peek at the room, the light of the fire too harsh for me to see more than vague shadows.

A woman's voice spoke softly yet the edge to it was like the hiss of the fire as it flickered. "The Lady Selyse is willing to do much for the-"

"I won't." The man's voice was a deep rumble, storm clouds rolling over a battlefield. "He can not ask this of me. Not _her_."

As if responding, a burst of wind ripped over my head into the tent, whipping my ears as it banished the light of the fire.

Straddling him, she pulled his face closer to hers. "My king, you know that you must obey _our_  Lord's command." In the darkness of the tent, with the fire extinguished, I could finally focus. Melisandre's eyes gleamed with a dark glint much like the ruby at her throat, a third eye which seemed to glow unnaturally brighter with her last words; "King's blood must be given so the Lord of Light can guide us to victory."

The man's jaw clenched and as he shifted to look away from the compelling light of her, I saw who he was.

The shock of the truth caused my legs to fight against the pain of freezing and I managed to scramble away.

_Shireen._

* * *

**_"_ ** **_It's always summer, under the sea_ **

**_I know, I know, oh, oh, oh~_ **

Obviously, the tent Shireen's voice was coming from was heavily guarded. But much like Stannis' tent, no body seemed to notice the freezing woman turned blue snake. The fucking backs of my knees would be the only things left at this rate as even more elbows were even scraped raw on the snow.

**_"The birds have scales, and the fish take wing_ **

**_I know, I know, oh, oh, oh~"_ **

If Tana had held her convention in Alaska, maybe this would be what the hell blaze of a shit-show that was. Instead of waiting in the boiling heat, resulting in heat stroke and dehydration that caused fainting (because why shouldn't people who paid a hundred dollars be comfortable?), the Tana fans would have had to crawl their way through the sheets of snow that rip their way through your skin. The 'bag of redemption' would have held a single nipple pom pom rather than a Tana condom as flimsy as her morals. Instead of paid disappointment, free anger would be the only motivation to charge forwards because if there's nothing that people come together over - it's shit being free.

**_"The rain is dry, and the snow falls up_ **

**_I know, I know, oh, oh, oh_ **

**_The stones crack open, the water burns"_ **

I'm losing my mind... Why don't I just lay down? Succumb?

Leave Shireen to whatever awaits her...

**_"The shadows come to dance, my love_ **

**_The shadows come to play"_ **

Finally, I reached the crack in the tent and pulled myself through, settling myself inside and simply basking in the warmth as I listened to Shireen sing her last notes to herself.

**_"The shadows come to dance, my love_ **

**_The shadows come to stay~"_ **

Once she had finished, I rolled over to push myself up and see the inside of the large tent.

Besides the fire pit in the middle of the tent was Shireen, playing with a wooden stag figurine, having it gallop along the long expanse of the giant tome sat in front of her.

Lady Visenya barely moved her head from where it was laying on her front paws, a yawn spreading her jaws wide.

The feeling had finally returned to my body. As I stood and stumbled over to the young girl, I whisper-called, "Shireen!"

"Y/N?"

The direwolf simply wagged her tail in a wave.

Dropping her wooden figure, she hurried to meet me with wide arms that soon wrapped around my waist. Her warmth seemed to spread through me as relief filled me.

Her long hair was smooth to the touch when I stroked it but I couldn't focus on that.

Gently, I held her rough cheek, moving her face away from my chest to look up at me, as I bluntly said, "We need to leave, Shireen."

Rather than argue with me, she nodded, retreating from me, and began to pack a few things into a bag she retrieved from under her bed. As she did, stuffing mostly books in, she began to ask, "Where are we going? Is Visenya coming? Are you taking me to King's Landing? Can Patchface come too?"

"Sorry, who's Patchface again?" I asked as she hovered nearer my side, cradling the stag in her palm as she slid it safely into place in her bag.

Before Shireen could say anything to reason why this stranger should come along, the supposed stranger popped up from the shadows behind her.

His grossly tattooed face was stretched and distorted as he jangled forwards, causing me to draw Shireen deeper into my arms. The wide maw opened and out came an awful sing-song voice,  _"In the dark the dead do dance, and the raven fades in the anse. Yet neither will be one of the arrows that cause the lady's rise from the fallows, the true breach of the leech~_ "Like a vision, an image of the fool's face with blood upon his lips and skulls dancing about his head appeared before me, a cruel snarl like a wolf about to devour Shireen that should have been hidden behind oddly blue lips. The image was soon gone and the odd tattooed man was still in his place.

"Still no." I attempted to just turn and ignore the odd jester but every time he shifted with breath, those bells rang louder than any toll of passing-bells could. Finally, I just sighed and turned back. "Sorry, but can you give us a minute?"

The sad jangle of his bells followed him out into the night.

Turning back to the girl who simply looked up at me with hope and trust, I tried to appeal to her intelligence. "Shireen, I need you to listen to me, now. You are a wonderful special child but your father is... ill and being taken advantage of."

"The Red Woman of Asshai?"

"Yes. He's not in his right mind.  _Please come with me._ "

Shireen opened her mouth in reply but was stopped, her head turning to the gap. Visenya had done the same thing, her teeth glinting in the firelight from where they had been revealed under her snarl. The bells began to return and with it, other feet storming towards us.

"Princess~" Melisandre's voice crept through the night.

Even the direwolf began to trad backwards towards us.

Fear caught me and I couldn't hold it any longer, gripping onto the young girl's shoulder.

" _Please_ ," I begged hoarsely.

With a nod, the girl stepped towards me. Clutching onto her bag fiercely, the girl wrapped herself back up in my arms and kept her left arm caught onto the scruff of Visenya's neck who had arrived at her side.

As the tent flap was ripped open, I focused on anywhere else than the fire that could be, and felt the warmth extinguish itself within me.

Through it all, the cold night and it's mists, the fear, the feeling of a storm lighting a fuse within my veins, I faced forwards as a demon's eyes stared at me.

After all, as the Great Barack of House Obama once said in a meme: 'I will face God and walk backwards into Hell'.

* * *

It was hot here, a stark change to the freezing tundra of the North. The world here seemed to be an eternal spring, blessed by Persephone with flowers blooming softly all around.

Bursts of Azaleas greeted us, protected by the trumpet trees creating an arch of pink flowers that slowly dust the ground beneath with their petals as the light wind that followed us ruffled them, scattering them like the host club had their fan out on light. Roses in pale pink and white blossomed from the ground, decorating the well-kept lawn Shireen, myself, and the direwolf were crossing past. Beneath the flowers, cobra lilies lie in wait, unseen amongst the leaves shading the earth.

It seemed like forever we walked in silence, our tempers more suited to winter than this seemingly eternal spring.

Yet the aimless wandering soon came to a halt in front of what must be Slytherin 'Keep'.

Slytherin Keep was not much of a Keep at all. Much like the 'Great' Depression, it was only in name that it became the thing.

The grand black doors stood tall beneath my insignia, the Slytherin crest casting a shadow on the large man standing before them.

Rather than a black set of robes such as Luwin wore in the North, the giant of a man wore a soft grey like he was shrouded in mist. His maester chain included links of black iron (ravenry instead of twitter), copper (history), yellow gold (money and accounting), silver (medicine and healing), iron (warcraft) and lead (poison). Hair like Tormund's pubes sprouted from his scalp.

"Who are you?" I asked, stopping before the door and feeling Shireen tighten her grip on my hand.

"Oak, my lady." He bowed. "You hired me after hiring my mother. I currently serve as your maester and steward, my lady."  _You shouldn't be. It should be Emma._

"And where is your mother? Emma should have arrived by now."

Something twitched in his eyes. This close to him, I could see a flicker of sickly green pass through his emerald eyes, so similar to his mother's. "My lady... this isn't a discussion we should have around children. If you wish, I may introduce you to your staff and have..." he gestured with a giant paw of a hand at my young ward.

"Shireen of the House Baratheon. She's to be my ward."  _Because otherwise it's kidnapping._

"Then follow me, my lady."

* * *

The 'keep' (read giant mansion less gaudy than a shitty castle) was daunting in it's dark wood features, the deep Slytherin green and silver as the only accents. Yet when I caught sight of a bun of maroon hair.

"Lorenah," I called over to the woman who stood waiting for us by the main entry doors (a fancy porch because why not?). Letting go of Shireen gently, I hurried over to the older woman and keep my gaze on her monolided eyes. "Lollys not working for you?"

"The child refused to learn. If you had cast a stone at the space between her ears, the echo would have followed you for years."

"Then you're in luck." I checked back over my shoulder, gesturing for Shireen to come closer. In her shyness she had dipped her head to hide her mark. "This is Shireen, my ward. She adores reading and her knowledge is fantastic. Perhaps you would take her under your dutiful wing?"

Instead of answering me directly, she turned to the young girl and demanded, "Young lady, a noblewoman does not bow her head for anyone. She keeps it tall even when she bows."

Hesitantly, Shireen lifted her head.

Instead of recoiling in shock, Lorenah kept calm and proceeded to gesture to the girl's bag before inquiring, "Is that a copy of the ' _Jade Compendium'_  I see?"

Shireen smiled in response.

Watching her come out of her shell, I hadn't noticed how close the maester had gotten to the doors. Oak coughed to grab my attention back as the entry doors slowly opened to reveal a small line of servants stood before a staircase.

Together, we ventured further into the building.

The line of servants contained some familiar faces but mainly new.

Starting from the left, Oak stepped forwards to introduce them.

The first woman was tall and slender, similar features to Lorenah but hair slicked into a chocolate braid that circled her head. Her dress in my colours was simple and neat. "Alara Chaimbers, your head housemaid."

She curtsied deeply. When she stood once more, she said, "My lady, my duties include overseeing the work of the other girls in your employ. Should you ever see a problem or wish for something, send your squire for me."

I nodded as I knew was my only correct action before turning back to Oak.

"Your laundry maid, Emmelyne, and your head of the stables, Tayla, are currently preoccupied with their duties. Your other housemaids are also preparing for your return. Should you wish it, I can have them brought here."

"No, best not to disturb their hard work."

An approving nod was all I received before he introduced the next woman.  "Rila here is your-"

"My lady, it is an honour to meet you," the dark featured woman interrupted and the glint of her armour caught my eye as she bent onto one knee, sword tip touching the ground much to Oak's twitching brow's dismay. "My name is Rila of House Bulwer. Should you accept me, I wish to serve you as a squire and one day, a knight. I pledge to you my life, my sword, and all that you ask for I live by my family's words 'death before disgrace' and if I must prove-"

"Sure," I stated.

"Excuse me, my lady?"

"A brave-" Magnificent lady with buns of steel and beauty beyond reason. "-woman I know also's a knight. Perhaps your loyal service will one day grant you to meet her." I shot her a small smile, a red rash rushing into her face as I turned away to the only man in the line up.

The man was a smaller version of Oak, like the printer had run out of ink. Where Oak was broad, the man dressed in Septon's robes was willowy. Whilst Oak's hair was a flame upon his head, the Septon's was a simple dusting of white across his dark scalp. "Septon Javer."

"May the Gods bless you and this household."

"May the Gods bless you with good health, Septon, for as long as you may serve me."  _Because fuck the Gods._

Finally, Oak turned me to the almost last two women I recalled immediately upon sighting them; "Your mistresses of the wardrobe; Firanysa and her daughter Hesa Nestys."

"M'lady Slyth'rin," Fira greeted me.

"You both look well."

"We are m'lady." They curtsied and instead of babbling at them, asking where Emma was, the only people I knew must know her, I turned to the final woman in the row.

Dressed in finery of tiger stripes of orange and black cloth, the final woman was proudly noble in her multiple braids of ocher. "Your ladyship's companion; Alora of House Leygood, a vassal house." _Great, I escape to the countryside to avoid_

"Hopefully we will be good friends my lady."

"Hopefully," I simply repeated.

They all seemed nice, I considered after meeting all of them.

 _And yet..._ I cast my gaze over to Oak who remained a strong presence, view-able only out of the corner of my eye.

_Still haven't explained about Emma._

Oak must have caught my look as he sent a whispered command to Lorenah and she began to herd Shireen away with promises of viewing the library.

"Come," he guided and I followed his guidance.

* * *

My study made me feel like Thomas Shelby must to make all of his mistakes; overly confident and fueled with power.

It was more comforting than the staircase where a large portrait of me towered over me. Instead this room was smaller and had booze in it.

"My lady, before I say anymore, may I ask a question?" Oak asked from his seat opposite the dark wooden desk.

"Ask away," I called from my position behind the desk rooting through the drawers for the crystal bottles of liquor.

"Why take the girl for your ward?"

"You know about the state of affairs outside of the Reach, I presume." I grabbed one small cordial and closed the drawer, sitting down with it in my hand. "I fear for her, truly. She was kind to me many years ago and I... I reacted to a threat to her being. I don't know much about what I've planned for her future, if I've planned at all, but I know this: no matter what happens, Shireen will  _never_  sit upon that accursed throne. I would die before I let that happen."

"...And if a knight came to place her upon the throne? Raising an army to put the rightful heir in the seat of power?"

I popped the top off, laying it on my desk and taking a swig instead of answering.

Understanding the threat not spoken, Oak began to speak, "My mother was riding along the King's road to the Riverlands where she should have been able to get an escort to the Reach by boat unseen but..."

Realisation filled me. "Besides the sword... The coins I gave her were marked with the Lannister crest as all of my coins are. She refused them but I insisted, wanting her to be safe. Yet it was me who damned her." I laughed bitterly. "Should have known that Lannister gold anywhere else would be a death sentence."

Oak said nothing, folding his hands into his lap and fidgeting with the writer's callous on his left hand between his middle finger and index. "She was hung," Oak informed me. "The girl riding with her had got away, and she brought this back with her."

He stood, casting a tree-like shadow as he strode over to the wall to my left, away from the window. From above the mantle-piece he pulled...

As stainless as the day I had been given the sword, it gleamed gold before me.

_It's come to haunt me..._

I could barely breathe, trying not to grab the weapon and cast it away. Instead I managed to utter out, the words unknown to me until I had spoken them, "I assume you've made the necessary arrangements for a funeral befitting her status."

"Yes my lady," Oak answered.

I nodded. "Then we carry on."

"Your first order, my lady?" Oak inquired.

I smirked wryly, leaning back in my chair.


End file.
